The Compound
by Leigh Hayley
Summary: When Bobby calls in a "specialist" to help Sam and Dean on what they think is a simple case, their lives are unexpectedly changed...forever. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

"You know, I really don't think we need a baby sitter, Bobby."

Dean kicked at a small pebble near his boot and let out what must have been the most audible sigh ever heard.

"Yeah, Bobby," Sam agreed. "I don't think we need any extra help with this case. We've always done fine on our own."

Bobby coasted his wheelchair down the ramp at the front door and joined the boys on the porch. He sipped from the coffee mug in his hand and let out a sigh of his own. "You boys haven't been on a real hunt in months," he began.

Dean opened his mouth, but Bobby stopped him with a simple, raised hand. "I know, I know. You've been busy with the end of the world and having an archangel on your butt, but that's no excuse. You've gotten rusty."

Sam nudged Dean and smiled smugly.

"Both of you," Bobby added, quickly. Sam frowned. "So who is it we're waiting for?" he asked.

"Another hunter," Bobby answered from behind his mug. "A specialist, you might say."

"A specialist?" Dean scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean? This case is just a crazy, demon possessed, eight-year-old, little girl. What's so special about that?"

"You boys aren't always great with kids," Bobby chuckled. "This hunter _only_ works with kids and their families."

"Well, if this hunter's so great, then how come we've never heard of him before, Bobby?" Sam asked. "Plus, you've never even mentioned him before now."

Bobby smiled to himself, unwilling to correct Sam in his assumption that the hunter they were waiting for was a male. In fact, she was a girl. Well, a woman now, but Bobby always had trouble admitting that she was actually grown up. It was always easier to remember her as the awkward, pretty little fifteen-year-old girl she'd been when he had first met her seven years ago.

"This hunter is way under the radar. Doesn't keep contact with any other hunters, works alone, and keeps to…" Bobby paused, not wanting to give too much away too quickly. "Himself. And like I said, he specializes in cases dealing with kids. But he's good at what he does. Really good. He gets in, does exactly what needs to be done, and moves on to the next case. Simple as that."

Bobby hoped that would be enough for them. But as always, Sam needed more.

"Why just kids and families?" he asked, joining his brother in kicking nearby rocks.

"He has his reasons," Bobby answered, simply. "They're personal."

Dean seemed to understand that. Truth was, he didn't know of any hunter who wasn't in the business because of something personal. But if he was going to be working with this guy, and he had something to hide, Dean certainly wanted to know about it.

"What's his name?" he asked.

Bobby took another sip of coffee and thought for a moment. "Ken," he finally grunted.

McKenna, really. Kenna for short, but the boys didn't need to know that yet.

After hearing the details of the boys' struggle with this case, Bobby had called her immediately. After at least twenty minutes of arguing, he finally convinced her to come. But of course there was one stipulation. Bobby was to do what he had always done: keep his mouth firmly shut about who she was.

And he had done that for the past seven years. No other hunter on the face of the earth, besides him, knew who she was. As far as the other hunters were concerned, she didn't even exist.

And despite the boys' constant argument that they had no qualms with female hunters, Bobby knew they would immediately judge McKenna's ability as a hunter because of her gender. Especially Dean.

So for now, McKenna would be a man named Ken.

Off in the distance, the three men heard the loud rumble of an engine. It was an impressive motor, whatever it was. A roaring beast mixed with the humble purr of a kitten.

Dean smiled and jerked his head at Sam, silently daring him to guess the vehicle's make and model based on the engine's sound, alone.

"Seventy-one Mustang," he guessed with an uncaring shrug, mainly answering to simply appease Dean and his superior knowledge of cars.

"Dead wrong, little brother," Dean smiled. "That would be the heavenly sound of a 1970 Chevelle. Awesome car. You might even call it a cousin to my baby." Dean nodded toward the Impalla and for a moment, Sam wondered if his brother was going to blow a kiss to his beloved car. He shook his head with a chuckle.

"You're both wrong," Bobby piped up. "It's a 1989 Harley. A dang motorcycle, you idjits."

Sam and Dean looked up and waited for the ever-nearing vehicle to come into view. A blur whizzed behind the trees lining Bobby's driveway. It was much too slim and far too small to be a car. Bobby had been right and both boys let out a defeated sigh.

They looked on with interest as a gorgeous, mint condition Harley Davidson pulled up in front of the house.

Dean let out an impressed whistle and stood to his feet. "Well, I like this guy already," he smiled.

The helmeted rider turned off the engine, steadied the bike on its kickstand, and easily dismounted. Bobby's mouth broke into a grin that neither of the brothers recognized. He shoved his coffee mug into Sam's empty hands and quickly wheeled his way down the porch ramp and into the driveway.

Sam and Dean looked up and watched as the rider pulled off his helmet. A long mass of thick, blonde hair shook free and fell around…_her_ shoulders.

It was a woman. Bobby had lied.

"Bobby, you lyin', no good, son of a…" Dean's curse faded away as he watched the girl toss the helmet aside and run towards Bobby. She dropped to her denim-clad knees and wrapped her arms around Bobby's shoulders, wheel chair and all. The boys knew they were talking, but couldn't hear their words. And for some reason, they knew they obviously weren't supposed to.

Dean frowned at Sam as he felt his chest tighten. He had been wrong about this hunter being a guy, but he had been right about something else. Especially with Bobby's ability to lie about everything, right to their faces.

Apparently this chick had an awful lot to hide.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby led McKenna inside with her duffel bag draped over his immovable legs. She had tried to tell him that she could carry her own things, but Bobby Singer was ever the gentleman, and would hear none of it.

The Winchester brothers followed the pair inside, an expression of pure confusion pasted on both of their faces. Bobby dropped McKenna's duffel on the floor at the bottom of the stairs and pulled the young blonde into his arms for the second time. Her chin rested on the older man's shoulder, and the corners of her lips turned up for just a split second. The moment her eyes made contact with the two other men, the tiny smile disappeared.

McKenna straightened up after she gave Bobby one last squeeze, and stared at the boys with a completely unreadable expression.

Bobby stretched out an open hand with a smile. "Kenna, this is…"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," she quickly interrupted, a subtle hint of a southern accent apparent in her speech. "Your father was John Winchester, and your mother was Mary. Both of them were hunters, and both died tragically."

Dean's lips pinched uncomfortably between his lips, while Sam's jaw tightened.

"I'm sorry," she said, pausing for a moment to offer her sympathies, but quickly continued on. "From what I hear from Bobby, you two are some of the best hunters around, second only to him and your father."

Sam and Dean smiled at the kind comment, their first impression of the new girl beginning to wane.

"But I also know you started the Apocalypse, therefore making you both a couple of morons."

The boys' smile quickly faded. Apparently their first impression had been correct.

"And just how do you know all that?" Dean questioned, frowning. "More importantly, who the hell are you?"

"Dean, Sam, this is McKenna Stevenson," Bobby said, answering for her. He placed his palm in the middle of her back and gave it a proud pat.

"I thought you said McKenna was _man_ named Ken, Bobby," Sam growled.

"I am a man named Ken," McKenna cut in as she reached down to pick up her duffel. "When the situation calls for it. Sometimes, for safety's sake, I use aliases, just like you two, but my real name is McKenna. Kenna for short."

Against his better judgment, and mostly just to see what she would do, Dean leaned forward and offered his hand. "Like you said, this is my brother Sam. And I'm Dean. Nice to meet you, McKenna."

The blonde looked down and stared at his outstretched hand for a long, uncomfortable moment. Her eyes grew large and glazed over. She didn't say a word or make any effort to shake Dean's hand. Her chest quickly rose and fell as her breathing suddenly kicked into high gear. Her fear filled eyes shot up to Dean's for a moment, nervously slid to Sam's, and quickly sought refuge in Bobby's.

"Is it all right if I go get cleaned up?" she whispered.

"Of course," Bobby answered, an unexplainable hint of sympathy in his tone. "You know where everything is."

Sam and Dean frowned at one another. Neither one appreciated the fact that she 'knew where everything was'. Apparently this girl had spent more time here than either of them wanted to admit.

McKenna nodded her thanks to Bobby, and quickly made her way up the stairs without another word. Dean at least had the presence of mind to wait until he heard the slam of a door upstairs before he went into a tirade.

"All right, who is she, Bobby? Where did she come from, and how the hell does she know everything about us?"

"She doesn't know everything, Dean," Bobby sighed. "I haven't told her everything, because some things just ain't none of her business."

"Damn, right," Sam muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Which goes the same for you two," Bobby added, quickly. "Yeah, she knows about the Apocalypse, but she doesn't know a thing about Michael and Lucifer being after you two. And she doesn't know that you went to Hell, Dean. Heck, she doesn't even know about Castiel."

Sam and Dean both nodded, thankful that Bobby had managed to keep some things a secret.

"So it should go without saying that she deserves the same respect," Bobby continued. "She doesn't know everything about you two, so that means you two don't need to know everything about her."

"Bobby, at least tell us where she came from," Sam pleaded. "And what her background is."

"No!" Bobby snapped. The boys jumped, surprised at the sudden steeling in the older man's tone. His eyes instantly apologized as he glanced up the stairs.

"No," he repeated, quietly. "I can't tell you where she came from. Believe me…you don't want to know."

Sam's eyes narrowed at Bobby's cryptic statement. He glanced over at Dean for help, but his brother said nothing.

Dean understood what Bobby was saying. And even more, he suddenly felt a new understanding toward McKenna. For a moment, he wondered if the emotion might even border along the line of respect. So, the girl had secrets, and obviously some big ones. But then again, who didn't?

Dean had sold his soul and gone to Hell, tortured countless souls, and came back a broken man. Sam had gone darkside, completely defiled himself with a demon, and became addicted to the power she'd held in her blood. And Bobby…well, Bobby was still somewhat of a mystery. Even to Sam and Dean.

"Bobby, this girl," Dean said, jerking his chin up toward the stairs. "You say she knows what she's doing?"

Bobby nodded. "She's the best."

"You're sure?" Sam asked, but immediately wished he could take back the question when he saw Bobby's cold answering glare.

Dean glanced at his brother, eyebrows raised in question. "Sammy, what do you think?"

Sam seemed to think it over for a moment, but quickly shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "If Bobby says she's good, then she must be really good," he answered. "I say we give her a shot."

The decision had been made. Sam and Dean Winchester, demon hunters extraordinaire, were officially going against every instinct they had, every semblance of common sense they possessed, to trust a stranger that they knew almost nothing about.

"All right, Bobby," Dean finally sighed. "She's in, for now."

The older man smiled and handed each of the boys a beer. Sam lifted the bottle to his lips and smiled wryly at Dean.

"I sure do hope we know what we're getting ourselves into, here."


	3. Chapter 3

McKenna brushed a comb through her wet, now clean hair, attempting to pull the bristles through her stubborn knots as best she could. The shower had washed the dirt from her skin, and the grime from her hair, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, or how hot the water, it could never wash away all the dirt within her soul.

Ugly, sick, useless…

She could hear the whispers in her ears, the buzzing in her heart.

Whore, slut…

"Kenna?" The kind, low voice brought her out of her nightmares and back into the present again. McKenna lifted her head and looked at Bobby for a long, comforting moment. The corners of her lips turned up slightly. He was the only person, or at least the only man, on the whole planet that brought out any signs of happiness in her.

He was also the only person in the world who knew her secrets. All of them.

And yet he continued to care about her anyway.

"You thinking again?" he asked as he wheeled himself toward her bedside. "Because it's never a good thing when you do that, you know."

McKenna continued to swipe the comb through her gnarled strands as she sat down on the mattress. She reached forward to move her duffle bag and pile of papers out of the way, but Bobby beat her to it. His wrinkled hand brushed over the papers, his fingers running under a few words as he looked over them. He smiled sadly, absorbing each word of her impressive research.

He already knew every word, every sentence. He had for years.

"You've really been working hard," he said, praising her. "I'm proud of you, Kenna, you know that?"

Her lips stretched into a thin line and she nodded her thanks.

Bobby knew exactly what she was hunting, and why. He knew that she was originally driven by hate and revenge, but that she thrived mostly on fear, now.

The fear that dripped from those she saved. The fear that pumped through her veins and fueled her passion for rescuing the young and innocent.

Kids.

McKenna was made of nothing but steel. Her heart was hard as stone, and completely closed up. She hadn't even known how to smile until Bobby showed her how. But kids were her one soft spot. She could torture, exorcise, and send a demon, screaming back to Hell without even blinking, but when it came to kids, her heart softened.

"I'm glad you're here to help the boys. It'll help you get your mind off of this stuff for a little while," Bobby said, tapping the pile of papers with the tips of his fingers. McKenna sidestepped his verbal landmine, and attempted to change the subject.

"You're getting around great with this thing, Bobby," she said, patting her hand on the arm of his wheelchair. "You've done a lot of work on the house. I'm especially impressed by the homemade stair lift out there…"

"You know better then to use your sucking up complements on me, Kenna," Bobby sighed. "It might work on your cases, but don't you dare try to use 'em with me, missy."

"Sam and Dean don't like me, Bobby," McKenna argued.

"You gotta make 'em like you. Give 'em just a little extra information and they'll come around."

McKenna shook her head. She didn't want to give them any extra information. She didn't want them to like her. She just wanted to do get in, do the job, and get out. She didn't want to make any friends, especially them. It didn't matter what Bobby said. It didn't matter how nice or trustworthy he said they were. It didn't matter that they were some of the best hunters out there. It didn't matter how many people they saved.

They were men, and therefore dangerous.

"They're gonna start poking around, if they haven't already," Bobby continued. "I can bet you anything that they're downstairs on Sam's computer right now, looking for information on you."

McKenna winced. She should have thought of that. Heck, she had done the exact same thing. The moment she came up the stairs, and shut the door behind her earlier, she had pulled her laptop from her duffel, and began to research the Winchester boys. She'd known that she wouldn't find any more than what Bobby had already told her, but the hunter within refused to do any less.

"Do you think they'll find anything?" she asked, glancing at Bobby.

"I doubt it," the older man answered. "You've done a pretty good job at covering up your past. Burning down the Police Department that had all those crime scene photos probably wasn't your finest hour, though."

McKenna almost chuckled at the memory, but quickly suppressed the desire. Bobby was right. Sam and Dean would keep fishing until they caught something, but since there was nothing to catch, she might as well offer up a little bit of bait.

"All right, Bobby, you win," she finally sighed. "I'll show them my baby girl. You still got the keys?"

~~~~~***~~~~~

McKenna pulled her damp hair back into a slick ponytail as she made her way down the stairs. Bobby had been right. Sam and Dean were sitting in the living room, their eyes glued to the bright screen of Sam's laptop. His hand shot up and closed it as she entered the room.

She glanced back up the stairs at Bobby, her eyes silently pleading for him not to make her do this. He only offered a nod that told her to go on ahead.

"You guys want to go for a little walk?" she offered, softly. "I have something you might like to see."

~~~~~***~~~~~

"Are we there yet?" Dean asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

The trio had been walking through the woods behind Bobby's house for almost a half hour, and McKenna still hadn't shown them anything worthwhile, yet.

"Almost," she said. "Just another few hundred feet and we'll be there."

"You know we come here all the time, Dean," Sam offered with a smug grin. "And we've never gone hiking in Bobby's woods before. I think it should be our new hobby."

Dean shoved Sam out of his way and moaned his displeasure. "Shut up, Sammy."

"We're here," McKenna called out when she finally came to a stop. Sam and Dean stared at her, and each other, and said nothing.

There was nothing there.

They were in the middle of the woods, with a strange girl they didn't know, and they were both completely unarmed.

It really wasn't the best feeling.

The boys watched as McKenna stepped forward and placed her palm flat on the trunk of, what appeared to be a large tree. She gave it a shove and the tree tipped back.

But it wasn't a tree at all.

Right there, in the middle of the woods, camouflaged by dense trees and thick ground cover was an old, wooden garage that neither of the boys knew anything about. A barrage of thick vines and branches stopped McKenna from getting the door open the rest of the way herself, and Sam and Dean stepped forward to help.

They finally managed to lift it open and, Dean's breath caught in his chest when his eyes hit the shiny silver hood of a car. He took a few reverent steps forward and gingerly slid his fingers along the edge of the grill.

"Hello, sweetheart," Dean whispered, his voice soft and easy, speaking to the car the way a desperate, single woman might speak to a newborn baby. Sam glanced at McKenna and smiled. For a moment, she almost returned it.

"This is a 1968 Shelby GT-500-KR," Dean breathed. "She's mint. Absolutely perfect."

He looked up at McKenna as he tenderly caressed his fingers along the hood. "Is she yours?"

McKenna nodded proudly. "Bobby's helped me fix her up over the years. I found her in an old scrap yard a few years back." Her voice softened as she looked down at her beloved car. Her mind slid off to somewhere else, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming. "She looked so banged up and broken. All alone, like she just needed somebody to take care of her…"

Sam cleared his throat in an effort to end the suddenly awkward moment. McKenna jumped at the sound, and forced herself to come back from where she always seemed to go.

She hated it there, more than anything.

"So you rebuilt this little girl?" Dean asked, a goofy smile covering his face, one that made him look like a six year old on Christmas morning.

"From the tires, up," McKenna answered. "You want to take a look under the hood?"

Dean said nothing, but his eyes grew wide and shiny. If that expression didn't mean a big, fat yes, McKenna didn't know what did. She slid around the side of the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and popped the hood. Dean immediately lifted it, while Sam slid into the passenger's seat.

Neither Sam, nor McKenna could see Dean's face behind the open hood, but they could hear his squeal. "Sweet Mother of all that's holy, this baby's sweet!"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I think Dean's in love."

"With my car?" McKenna asked.

"No, probably with you."

She smiled, and for a moment Sam though she was going to laugh, but the moment quickly passed when he noticed the Ipod jack in the dashboard.

"You installed that, too?" he asked.

"I did," she whispered, shamefully. "It's the only thing in her that's not cherry, I promise."

Sam disregarded the dig and reached up to grab the Ipod. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out," she shrugged.

Sam surfed through her music collection as McKenna climbed out from behind the wheel and headed back outside.

Dean grinned at her as she passed him. He carefully shut the hood and slid around to the passenger's side. Sam held up the Ipod and let his brother take a look. A familiar list of artists like Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, and Bad Company appeared on the screen.

"Check it out, man. She's like the female version of you," Sam chuckled.

"I don't know about that," Dean argued, pointing to the screen. "I'm not a huge Cat Stevens fan, but still, most of that's a pretty awesome playlist right there."

He crouched down on the ground and lovingly stroked the pristine leather upholstery. "Plus, we haven't seen her hunt yet," he added. "Or checked to see what weapons she carries in the trunk."

"There are no weapons in the trunk," McKenna interrupted them, suddenly. "Not yet, at least. Bobby and I just finished the car a few weeks ago. I haven't taken her out on the road yet."

Sam and Dean almost smiled.

"But if you want to take a look at some of the guns I keep in my Hog, go right ahead," McKenna added, quickly.

Sam placed the Ipod back on the dash and glanced at Dean. They both knew what she was doing. Showing them her car, offering to show them her weapons for their approval. She was trying to earn their respect, and show them that she knew what she was doing. She was trying harder to prove herself than anyone ever had before.

And judging by the pained, almost fearful expression on her face, McKenna was having a hard time doing it.

Sam and Dean didn't need to check her weapons, or anything else for that matter. She had proved herself more than worthy.

"All right, we head out first thing in the morning," Dean grunted as he pulled himself up to his feet. He leaned forward, placed a gentle hand on the Shelby's roof, and grinned at McKenna. "Providing you bring this precious beauty with you, of course."


	4. Chapter 4

McKenna was true to her word on the 'bright and early' part of Dean's orders. She was up at the crack of dawn, duffel packed, fully dressed, and ready to go. With her duffel flung over one shoulder, she made her way down the stairs, hoping that she and the boys would be able to leave without waking Bobby.

But apparently, it was too late for that.

She heard voices in the living room below, sadly proving that she wasn't the first one up. McKenna rounded the corner, entered the living room, and stopped dead in her tracks. For a moment she just stared at Sam and Dean, and sent a questioning glance at Bobby.

"Okay, so who died?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam chuckled, softly.

"You're both wearing suits," McKenna stated. "As far as I'm concerned, the only time a man should be wearing a suit is when he's getting married or going to a funeral. And I can't even begin to imagine you two attending a wedding."

"Well, hey," Dean said, straightening his tie. "Glad to know you have somewhat of a sense of humor."

"She has a little bit of one," Bobby said, smiling. "Kenna, these boys do things a little differently than you do," he began, reaching into their pockets to retrieve both of their wallets. He opened the billfolds and handed them over to McKenna.

She looked down at the badges inside for a moment, her eyes getting bigger with every word she read. Her eyes shot up and met theirs.

"These things are real?" she asked.

Sam and Dean nodded, shamefully.

"And I'm guessing you two stole these?"

Another nod, this one accompanied by a proud little smirk from Dean.

"So you guys go around working cases as fake FBI agents?" McKenna asked as she began to flip through the many pages in their wallets. "And Federal Marshals, and press agents, and…" she paused for moment, her eyes completely bulging as she held open one of the billfolds on the last page. "Clergy?!"

Sam's gaze fell to the floor and stayed there for a long time. Dean's smirk turned to a frown. He looked to Bobby, obviously hoping for some help, but all he received from him was an innocent, you-got-yourself-into-this shrug.

"You guys are sick," McKenna accused, harshly. "What's wrong with you?"

"All right, so we impersonate some people that we probably shouldn't, but we do it for the greater good," Dean shrugged. "How do _you_ get people to talk to you when you're working a case?"

"I listen," McKenna insisted. "That, and I have a smile that would light up a room."

Sam and Dean leaned forward, each of them hoping to catch a glimpse of the smile she was talking about, but McKenna's face remained completely straight.

"She does, boys," Bobby said, sticking up for her. "I've seen it once or twice. It's nice."

"Look, this is how we work," Dean said. "Hell, I'm sure you've had to change your hat a few times when you're working a case."

"But I've never had to pretend I was Dana Scully in order to get people to open to me," McKenna continued, directing her frustration at Dean, alone. "And if you guys are going to work with me, you're doing it in plainclothes. Now, go get changed."

McKenna gave Bobby's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, turned on her heel, and left the room.

Sam looked up at Dean and grinned. "You know, I think I'm starting to like her."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam, Dean, and McKenna headed outside, packed up the Impala and the Shelby, and each traded cell phone numbers. The boys helped McKenna place her weapons in the trunk, both of them incredibly impressed by her arsenal.

Sam held up one of her knives and ran his fingers along the intricate designs carved into the large, wooden handle. "Where'd you get this?"

"Mexico," McKenna said, simply. "Platinum blade. Very old, very rare."

Sam's eyebrows arched up, his expression going into full puppy-dog mode, but McKenna refused to take the bait, and she didn't say one more word about it.

Dean tenderly shut down the trunk and allowed his fingers to lovingly trace over one of the taillights with a heavy sigh.

"You know, if you're not careful, somebody might start to get jealous," Sam teased, cocking his head toward the Impala.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean, promised. "She understands that I get crushes on other girls sometimes."

"All right, you three," Bobby called from the porch. "Get your asses up here."

The three young hunters quickly made their way up the stairs and joined Bobby. McKenna sat on a nearby planter, respectfully bringing herself down to his level.

"Now you all know that I hate rules, but I have a few that I'd really like you to follow," he began, his eyes darting back and forth to meet each theirs. "Look out for each other. Even more than you usually do. The three of you…" Bobby's voice faltered for a moment, but he forced himself to keep going. "The three of you are all I've got left, so stay safe."

They all nodded, each of them understanding in their own specific way, just how much they meant to Bobby. McKenna stood to her feet, and gently wrapped her arms around the older man's neck. She kissed his cheek, promised to be careful, and climbed into her car.

"Boys," Bobby beckoned, softly as soon as McKenna was out of earshot. "I've got some special rules just for you two, too: Keep an eye on her. She's good at what she does, but she gets reckless, sometimes. And don't crowd her. She's an arms-length kind of person, so if she starts to get squirrelly, just back off." Bobby stopped for a moment, and pointed a strong, steady finger right at Dean's face. "And no flirting, Romeo. You leave her alone, understand?"

Sam suppressed the desire to chuckle. Dean stared at the finger in his face, and simply nodded.

"She has nightmares sometimes," Bobby continued. "Bad ones. She might start screaming, but don't go running to her. Just let her be, and don't ask any questions in the morning. Got it?"

Sam and Dean just stared at Bobby for a long moment, both of them shocked at how well he knew her, but even more so at how, before yesterday, had never said one word about her very existence.

"And remember, _she's_ helping _you_ two out, so listen to her, and do what she says," Bobby concluded. "There, my lecture's done. Now get out of here, and I'll see you in a few days."

The boys nodded their consent, and headed down to the car. Sam climbed into the passenger seat, and waited patiently while his brother stopped at the Shelby.

"It's about a seven hour drive, so it'll probably take all day," Dean informed McKenna as he leaned his weight against the car. "There's an eight year old girl who's been stuck in a pediatric mental ward for the past three weeks. Everybody thinks she's just crazy, but according to our research, she recently started speaking Latin and listing off the names of a bunch of demons."

McKenna nodded along with his words as she leaned across the passenger seat to pull a pen, and a pad of paper from the glove box. As Dean continued, she began to take down some notes.

"So needless to say, we think it's a demonic possession. Which brings us to why you're here," Dean said, thoughtfully. "We're used to demons possessing adults. I don't think Sam and I have ever dealt with this happening to a kid before."

"I have," McKenna offered. "Believe me, it's not fun. A demon-possessed child is a whole different arena. It takes a much different approach."

"Well, I hope we're up to the challenge," Dean smiled, tapped the roof of McKenna's car, and climbed into the Impala.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

An hour down the road, and Dean still couldn't stop himself from glancing back in the rear view mirror every few seconds. "I swear, I could watch that sweet girl following me in my mirror all day."

"Which one?" Sam chuckled. "The car or McKenna?"

Dean shot a glare at his brother. "The car."

"What, then? You don't think McKenna's a sweet girl?"

"I guess she can be," Dean offered. "In her own…weird little way."

"She definitely has her secrets, doesn't she?" Sam questioned as he thumbed his way through the file of papers on his lap. "And they must be pretty big, considering Bobby never said one word about her until yesterday."

"He said she has nightmares, Sammy," Dean said, softly. "That she wakes up screaming. What do think she dreams about?"

"I don't know, Dean. Why?"

"Well, you know what I dream about when I wake up screaming…"

"Yeah," Sam answered, wondering how the moment became so serious. "So?"

"So, I'm just thinking," Dean went on. "The only thing that makes me wake up screaming is when I dream about Hell."

Sam let the papers fall through his fingers and land back in lap. He glanced up at Dean for a moment, waiting for his brother to continue. When he did, Sam was stunned.

"I'm just wondering what kind of Hell she dreams about."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and called the newest number in his contact list. He turned on the speakerphone so Sam could hear too, and glanced in his rear view mirror. He smiled and watched McKenna reach down to answer her now ringing phone. "Yeah?"

"You hungry?" Dean asked. "There's an Express Chinese place the next town over."

"Call me a prissy little girl if you want, Dean," she sighed. "But in my experience, it's never a good idea to eat at a restaurant with the word 'express' in the title."

Sam looked up at Dean and smiled, smugly. "Told you."

After a few more minutes of arguing, the trio decided on a nice outdoor café, complete with a view of the nearby river. Sam couldn't have been more thrilled. He had missed eating food that didn't always require being nuked in the microwave. And even though Dean would never admit it, Sam knew that he was just as pleased about their present eating situation.

The three hunters went over research, theories, sports, and even music as they ate. Dean glanced over at Sam and saw his little brother smile. It was a sight he hadn't seen in, what felt like years. Sam even attempted to make McKenna laugh by way of showing her an online video he'd had saved on his laptop. It didn't quite bring forth any laughter, but a small smirk appeared on her lips, just the same.

It didn't take long for Dean to realize that he and Sam were having something that they hadn't had in a very long time.

Fun. And Dean hadn't even realized just how much he'd missed it.

When the food was gone, and the conversation ran out, the three packed up their research and headed back out on the road.

An hour later, Dean looked in the rear view mirror again, and waved his cell phone in the air. McKenna saw the silent 'call me' gesture and immediately fulfilled the request.

"We've got about another hour," Dean said simply, without using any kind of greeting.

"Good, it's starting to get dark," McKenna sighed, slightly put off by how comfortable Dean was becoming with her. "Where are we staying?"

"The Blue Bedroom Hotel. Sam showed you the website at lunch."

"Right, yeah. It looks like a real classy place." The words were out of her mouth before McKenna even had a chance to stop them. She hadn't stayed at a crummy hotel in ages. Over the years, she'd gotten used to staying at nice inns and bed and breakfasts. They usually didn't cost that much more than a hotel, the beds were always soft, and the homemade breakfasts in the mornings were wonderful.

McKenna could easily spoil herself when she was alone, but this time she wasn't. And this was Sam and Dean's case, not hers. If they wanted to stay at a crappy, pay-by-the-hour hotel, than she would just have to deal with it.

"Sounds cozy," McKenna murmured. "I get my own room, though."

"Fine," Dean consented. "As long we get adjoining rooms."

"I agree!" she heard Sam chime in, in the background.

McKenna let out a sigh and hung up the phone. Apparently the boys were serious about following Bobby's order to look out for each other. She rolled her eyes at the very thought of Sam and Dean Winchester. If she wasn't too careful, she was going to wind up being full-blown friends with them.

And that was the last thing she needed.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

More than once, Sam and Dean heard McKenna tossing and turning in the next room, that night. They could hear her wake up, pace the floors, turn the TV on, only to turn it back off a few seconds later. She would go back to sleep for maybe an hour, but then start the whole process anew, all over again. But thankfully, they never heard any screaming.

"I have some sleeping pills in my duffel bag," Sam whispered to Dean from the darkness. "Do you think I should offer her one?"

"Bobby said to leave her alone," Dean answered. "It's probably best to do what he said."

Dean could hear himself saying the words, but knew he didn't really mean them. He didn't want to leave her alone in there, all by herself. He wanted to go in there, ask her what was wrong, and tell her that everything would be all right. He couldn't even begin to understand how she'd lasted this long on her own, with no one to turn to. The few times that he and Sam had separated had nearly driven him insane, so he just couldn't comprehend how on earth McKenna managed to spend so much time alone.

Sam shook his head and glanced over at Dean when he heard her turn on the TV again. "I know Bobby said not to, Dean, but it's going to be really hard not to ask her any questions in the morning."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean cupped his hands beneath the running faucet and quickly brought the water up to his face. The icy wetness splashed onto his skin, and officially woke him up for the day ahead. He grabbed a nearby towel, dried his face, and proceeded to brush his teeth. His bare feet padded across the ugly, shag carpeting as he made his way out of the bathroom, and over to Sam's bed. He lifted a leg and rammed his knee into the bottom edge of the mattress, jarring his brother out of a sound sleep.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam lifted a heavy, drowsy hand, and threw a pillow at Dean. His brother simply ducked and headed back into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder as he went. "Go see how sleeping beauty's coming next door, will you?"

"Why do I have to be the one to go wake up McKenna?"

"Well, because you princesses should stick together, that's why," Dean said, grinning around his toothbrush.

Sam flipped back the covers, and slid off the side of the bed. He always hated being the last one up, and now he knew why. He heard Dean shut the bathroom door as his hand went up to knock on the rooms' adjoining door.

"McKenna?" he called. "You awake?"

He waited for a moment, and knocked again when she didn't answer. "Kenna?"

Nothing.

Sam was beginning to get worried now. After hearing all of her tossing and turning during the night, there was no possible way that she could be that heavy of a sleeper.

"McKenna!" Sam called one last time, and then decided it was time for drastic measures. He cemented his feet into the ground and leaned his weight forward, fully prepared to slam his shoulder into it. "I sure hope you're decent…"

Pain slammed into his body as he shoved himself into the door. He shook away the throbbing, thankful that it only took one try. Sam stepped into the room, noticing right away that the room was spotless, and the bed already made. He rushed to the front window and threw open the curtains.

The parking spot next to the Impala was empty.

The Shelby was gone.

"Dean!" Sam called as he rushed back into the other room, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans as he went. "McKenna's gone!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Have you tried calling her?" Dean demanded as he pressed his foot into the gas pedal of the Impala as hard as he could.

"Of course. I've tried calling her a hundred times, Dean," Sam groaned. "And she's not answering her phone."

"Try texting her then," Dean suggested, taking a turn a little faster than he probably should have. He righted the Impala as he came back into a straightaway, and hit the gas again. "Maybe she's somewhere where she can't talk on the phone, so try texting her. See if that works."

Sam was ashamed that he hadn't thought of that in the first place, but he did as he was told and sent a text.

_Where are you?_

It only took a few seconds before Sam's phone vibrated. He had a new text message. It was only one word.

_Hospital. _

"She's at the hospital," Sam said, reading the message aloud.

"That dang chick went to the pediatric ward without us," Dean growled through his teeth. "Dammit."

He slammed on his breaks, did a quick U-turn, and headed in the opposite direction, toward the hospital. "We've only known this woman for two days, and she's already going to be the death of us."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam and Dean flashed a pair of fake Doctor's IDs to the nurse at the front desk when they reached the pediatric ward at the hospital. Though they both wondered how on earth McKenna managed to get even that far. The only ID she carried on her was her own, and it was actually real.

Dean smiled his legendary grin at the nurse in exchange for directions to the correct room, and the boys rushed down the hall as quickly and quietly as possible, both of them doing their best to not bring any unwanted attention to themselves.

"What room did the nurse say?" Sam asked, as he nonchalantly smiled at the patients inside the rooms as they passed.

"231," Dean answered. "Should be around that corner up there."

The boys took a hard right, paused to make sure that no one was looking, and sprinted the rest of the way down to the end of the hall, coming to a stop outside the door. Dean wrapped his hand around the doorknob and twisted it.

"Dean, hold a second," Sam whispered, stopping him. He reached up and pointed in the window, beside the door. "Look."

Dean instantly followed his brother's gaze, and could have sworn he felt his jaw hit the floor.

There was McKenna, sitting comfortably on the little girl's bed…thumb wrestling.

"What the hell is she doing?" Dean whispered. A stunned Sam said nothing, and simply shrugged.

McKenna instantly looked up, almost as if she'd heard Dean's whisper. She released her thumb from the little girl's grasp, looked her right in the eyes…and grinned.

"Well, what do you know," Dean, muttered under his breath. "That smile really does light up a room."

McKenna excused herself, stood to her feet, and joined Sam and Dean in the empty hallway. For a long time, neither of them said a word. Finally Sam stammered, and eventually managed to force out a few words. "Is that her?"

"Yes," McKenna answered as she peeked into the window, and waved at the little girl inside. "Her name is Lydia Cummings. And she is _such_ a sweetheart."

"She's possessed by a demon!" Dean argued.

"Yes, she is. And she knows that."

"She _knows_ that?" Sam screeched, holding his arms out in utter disbelief.

"Yes, she knows," McKenna, said again.

Sam let his arms fall heavy at his sides, and began to pace up and down the long hallway.

"So, clearly, you two weren't lying when you said you knew nothing about demon possession in children," McKenna began. "Okay, listen. Believe it or not, kids are stronger than adults against evil like this. That 'faith of a child' thing is really true. Right now, Lydia is able to fight back the demon that's in her."

Sam and Dean stared at McKenna, both of them still completely baffled.

McKenna rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, try to picture it like this: For the moment, she's put the demon in a coma. Right now, she's just Lydia. She's the exact same little girl that she was when this whole thing first started."

"But how long is she able to control it?" Sam questioned. "I mean, she can't hold that thing off, inside her forever."

"You're right, she can't," McKenna agreed. "But she told me that the longest she's been able to keep it down is for about three hours. The last time she had an episode was an hour ago. So, we've got about two hours before she starts to freak out again."

McKenna stepped closer to the door, and beckoned the boys forward with a flick of her wrist. "Now, come on. I want you guys to come in and meet her."

"Making friends with a demon possessed kid," Dean smirked. "That _so_ wasn't something I had on my list of things to do today."

Sam rolled his eyes and gently shoved his brother into the room behind McKenna. They stood back a good distance from the bed, both of them wishing they'd brought a weapon or two with them.

"Lydia, these are the guys I was telling you about. They're my friends, Sam and Dean," McKenna said, knowing full well that she was really playing it fast and loose with the word 'friends'. "They're going to help make you feel better, okay?"

Lydia stared up at Sam and Dean, and they quickly used it as an opportunity to check her eyes.

They didn't change color. They didn't flicker to black, red, or yellow. They simply stayed large, blue, and full of fear.

"Are you gonna make the bad thing go away?" Lydia whispered.

Dean felt his heart break as he tried to remember just how many times they had heard a child ask them that question.

_"Are you going to make the bad thing go away? Will you make the monster leave me alone? Will you make it so I'm not scared anymore?"_

Lydia was just like all the other kids they'd helped over the years. The only difference was that the bad thing was _inside_ of her.

Sam glanced at Dean when his older brother continued to remain silent.

"Yeah," Sam finally answered for him. "Yeah, Lydia, we're going to make the bad thing go away. I promise."

The little girl smiled softly at Sam, and he kindly returned the gesture. Suddenly, her little hand shot out, grabbed hold of his, and held on tight.

"You wanna play Thumb War?"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna and Dean left Sam behind to keep Lydia company, as the two of them headed back to the hotel to retrieve McKenna's laptop.

"A typical exorcism doesn't work on children," she explained to Dean as they exited the hospital. "There's a special Latin ritual that we have to perform. I have the information in my comp-"

Dean suddenly grabbed McKenna's arm and whirled her around to face him. She gasped, almost screamed, and ripped her arm from his grasp. Her eyes were huge and filled with fear. It was an almost perfect mirror image of how Lydia had looked at him and Sam upstairs.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, I'm fine, I just…" McKenna paused, and looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. "I just…don't always like being touched."

Dean lifted his hands so she could see them, palms up, silently saying he'd meant no harm. He wanted to ask her why, wanted to know what had happened to her, but he knew it'd be easier to lasso a tornado than it would to get her to talk to him.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I just wanted to tell you that Sam and I were really worried when we couldn't find you this morning. You didn't call or leave a note, or anything. It just kind of freaked us out."

"I'm sorry," McKenna offered. "I guess I'm still not used to letting people know where I'm going…I'll be sure to let you know next time."

"We'd appreciate that," Dean said, thanking her. "Now, come on. Let's go save this kid."


	7. Chapter 7

"Thanks for picking up all the extra salt and candles for me, Dean," McKenna muttered as she busily continued to read through the files on her laptop.

Dean just drove, and remained silent, giving her all the time she needed. He couldn't help but continue to wonder how she knew everything that she did, and how she got into all of this in the first place.

"I hope Sam's okay," Dean finally said, breaking his silence. "It didn't feel right leaving him alone with the kid for this long."

"She has a name, Dean," McKenna growled, without even looking up from the screen. "Use it."

The right corner of Dean's lips popped up slightly. Maybe McKenna liked classic cars and rock music like he did, but she also reminded Dean of Sam a lot, too. Her dedication, and love for the job obviously knew no bounds. Not to mention how much care and compassion she showed to the people they worked so hard to save.

"Lydia seems to really like you," Dean mentioned, making sure to use the girl's name, this time. "How'd you get her to trust you so fast?"

"Like I said, I just listen to people," McKenna shrugged. "And I don't know, maybe I just have one of those faces."

She certainly had that. Dean couldn't help but want to lie back on a sofa, and tell her his whole life story every time he looked at her. If she wanted to, she could probably have a very lucrative career as a psychiatrist.

Dean turned into the hospital parking lot, and pulled up next to the Shelby. He got out and proceeded to help McKenna carry their supplies inside.

"A dozen black candles, two twenty pound bags of rock salt, and a laptop," Dean joked, smiling to himself. "This is going to be _real_ easy to explain to the nurses at the front desk."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam and Dean stood back and watched as McKenna drew symbols that neither of them had ever seen before, with the salt on the floor. Next she spread a line of it along the bottom of the door casing, and along the windowsill. After lighting the candles, she pulled a small vial of holy water from her bag, and swiped a drop of it across Lydia's forehead.

The little girl didn't even flinch.

"Good. The demon's still down," McKenna said. "Lydia, sweetheart, how do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess," she shrugged. "I liked playing Thumb War with Sam. He's not very good at it, but it was still fun."

Sam rolled his eyes at Lydia's dig, and Dean chuckled softly.

"I'll tell you what, Lydia," he said, smiling. "After we make the bad thing go away, you can thumb wrestle me. And, I'm better than Sam, so you better watch out."

Lydia giggled and proceeded to snuggle down, beneath the covers. McKenna sat on the bed next to her, and gently the little girl in. Her tiny fingers popped out from beneath the blankets, and curiously fingered the little vial in McKenna's hand.

"What are you going to do?" Lydia whispered.

McKenna smiled softly, hoping the gesture would ease her discomfort a bit. "I'm going to make the bad thing go away now."

"Is it going to hurt?'

"No," McKenna promised, reaching up to tenderly brushed the hair away from the little girl's face. "It's not going to hurt. But I need you to do something for me, okay?"

Lydia stayed silent and simply nodded her head.

"I need you to let the bad thing come out."

Lydia glanced up at Sam and Dean, her eyes silently asking them for help. Neither one of them said a word. There was nothing else they could do. This was the only way they could help her.

"I don't wanna let it out," Lydia whispered. "It scares me."

"I know it does, honey," McKenna said. "But I need you to be brave. And there's something else I want you to do, okay?"

Again, Lydia just nodded.

"After you let the bad thing out, I want you to run away and hide," McKenna began. "Don't look back, just run away. Try to think of something good, like your mom or your dad. Or how after this is all over, you'll get to go home. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Lydia looked up at Sam and Dean again. The boys nodded at her, silently letting her know that everything was going to be all right. She touched the vial of holy water in McKenna's hand one more time. "Okay," she whispered.

McKenna smiled, released Lydia's hand, and opened the vial. Suddenly, Lydia's hand shot out, and clamped onto McKenna's again.

"Ow," she gasped. "Something hurts."

"What is it, Lydia?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. I think it's the bad thing."

Dean stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the top of Lydia's head. He jerked his chin at McKenna. "You ready?"

She nodded.

"All right, Lydia," he whispered, and tenderly ran his fingers down the side of her head. "Go and hide, okay?"

The little girl nodded, lay back, and closed her eyes. For a long moment the room was completely silent, save for the sound of Lydia's breathing.

"Is she gone?" Sam whispered.

"I think so," McKenna answered, and began to get up from the bed.

Suddenly, Lydia's fingers curled tightly around McKenna's wrist, and jerked her forward, pulling her down, until their foreheads almost collided. The little girl's eyes snapped open.

They were pitch black.

"Hello, McKenna," the demon growled. It's eyes shifted, and glanced down at her body, clicking its tongue in vile admiration.

"My, my, how you've grown…"

-Please review, nicely! I have a TON of ideas regarding this story, and I'd love to keep it going for as long as possible, but the only way I'll do that is if you all like it, so let me know what you think. (By the way, certain secrets are soon to be revealed…) Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

An ice-cold chill ran up McKenna's spine as she gazed deep into the demon's eyes. They were pitch black, still, and emotionless, but she recognized the evil behind them. This wasn't just another, regular, every day demon. This was one she knew.

All too well.

Bobby couldn't have known that this was one of her demons. He never would've sent her into a case, blind like this. He would've, at least warned her, or probably never even called for her at all.

But how had she not known? She had worked so hard, tracked them so carefully…

And yet, all that work had been for nothing, if she didn't even know that one of her demons was right here, waiting for her.

She had been tracking nine specific demons for the past seven years. So far, she had gotten five of them. There were four left. And this was one of those four.

"You've gotten pretty," the demon growled. "A little older than I usually-"

"Shut up," McKenna hissed, hoping to silence the demon before Sam and Dean heard too much. She glanced back over her shoulder, and found them staring at her, watching her every move.

Their expressions remained unreadable, their mouths silent. And McKenna silently wished that they would stay that way. But it was a wish that would never come true.

"Kenna?" Dean grunted. "Do you know this douche-bag?"

McKenna closed her eyes for a moment. She was a horrible liar. Always had been. She could easily tell Sam and Dean that she didn't know this demon, that it was just lying. And she knew they would see right past any lie she might try to tell them, but she decided to give it a shot, anyway.

"It's a demon, Dean," McKenna whispered. "Demons lie. But it doesn't matter now, because this one's going away. Forever."

"You know _you_ can't kill me, McKenna," the demon within Lydia's little body cackled. "And your new boyfriends over there don't have their secret weapon on them right now. So, it just sucks to be you…again."

"I guess you haven't heard from your old friends in a while, huh?" McKenna whispered, her confidence rising. "You see those symbols in the salt over there? They're pretty special. Do you know what they can do?"

The demon looked at them, shook its head, and actually shivered.

Sam and Dean were shocked. The demon was actually showing fear, maybe even backing down. And as far as they could tell, it wasn't faking.

"See, I've done a lot of traveling since you last saw me," McKenna continued. "I've seen a lot of things, met a lot of people, and learned a lot of stuff. Stuff that will send you back to hell."

"You can send me back there as many times as you want, darlin', but I always come back," the demon chuckled bravely, and jerked its chin at Sam and Dean. "Even your boyfriends back there. They could send me away, too."

The boys' eyebrows arched.

"You know us?" Sam asked.

"I know _of_ you," the demon clarified. "Everybody does."

Dean nudged Sam and grinned. "See, Sammy? I told you we were famous."

McKenna glanced back at the boys and rolled her eyes. Her gaze returned to the demon, and she bravely stared it down.

"But, you see, there's a difference between them and me," she whispered, cupped her hands on each side of the demon's head, and jerked it forward until their foreheads touched. "When _I_ send your sorry demon carcass screaming back to hell, you…_won't_…come back."

McKenna turned her head and screamed. "Now!"

The boys immediately sprung into action. Dean grabbed a vial of holy water and a handful of salt, while Sam rushed to McKenna's laptop and instantly began to read off the Latin words etched across the screen.

McKenna forced the demon's mouth open as Dean poured the salt inside. He then drenched his hands with the holy water, and placed them over its chest. The demon screamed in pain as Sam continued to recite the incantation. A strong gust of wind forced its way into the room and blew out the candles, sending melted wax flying every which way.

The candle closest to Sam toppled over. Its wax poured out, and splashed onto his arm. He yelped in pain, but continued to read, determined to rid Lydia of this demon, now and forever. He stumbled over the last few words, but somehow managed to finally get them out…

The demon wrenched its head from McKenna's steely grasp, lifted its chin, and spewed the telltale black smoke from its mouth. Its scream went on, and on as the smoke spilled down onto the floor, and seeped into the tiles below. Lydia's now limp body fell back to the pillows in an unconscious heap.

Suddenly, everything was still. Completely silent.

The hunters panted, taking in each wonderful breath as though it were their last.

"Lydia?" McKenna whispered, gently wiping as much salt as she could from the little girl's mouth. "Dean, quick, get me some water, please."

He did as he was told, and rushed to the other side of the bed, grabbing a bottle of water from McKenna's bag as he went. He pressed the mouth of the bottle to Lydia's lips and forced her to swallow some. She gulped down at least half of the water in the bottle, obviously desperate to get the overwhelmingly salty taste out of her mouth. She laid there, quiet, but panting heavily, for a long time.

Finally, Lydia opened her eyes.

"Hi, sweetie," McKenna whispered, smiling.

Sam stood at the foot of the bed and tenderly laid a gentle hand on her blanketed shin. "It's good to see those pretty blue eyes again, kiddo," he chuckled.

Lydia smiled softly, and lifted her head.

"Dean?" she wheezed.

"Yeah," he smiled.. "Yeah, hey, sweetheart. I'm right here."

She lifted her small hand and weakly placed it over his.

"You wanna play Thumb War?"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna did her best to walk away from the job as soon as it was over. Lydia was once again a beautiful, perfect, demon-free little girl, free to go forth and live the happy, carefree life that children were supposed to live.

So, after congratulating Lydia and her parents on their daughter's miraculous return to the land of normal, McKenna was ready to leave. She had packed up all of her supplies, and even managed to get most of the salt and wax removed from the room.

The job was over. The case was closed. It was time to get back on the road again.

And as far away from the Winchesters as she could possibly get.

"McKenna, wait!"

"Yeah, hold up!"

McKenna hoped that she was a good enough actress to pretend that she didn't hear Sam and Dean calling after her as they came running out of the hospital. She opened the trunk of the Shelby, placed her duffel bag inside, and opened the door, but didn't even have time to get in before the brothers caught up with her.

"Kenna, wait. So, you were just going to leave?" Sam panted. "Without even saying goodbye?"

"The job's over, Sam," McKenna stated, simply. "We did an awesome thing in there, and now it's time to move on."

Dean reached out, and grabbed her arm again, much like he had earlier. This time, McKenna didn't scream, or even pull away. She simply glared down at his hand on her, and then up, into his eyes.

But her icy, cold stare did nothing to make him back down.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell us what the hell happened up there," he demanded. "That demon knew you!"

"Demon's lie, Dean!" McKenna growled, finally wrenching her arm free from his grasp. "We all know that. They lie, and make stuff up as they go along."

"But, you seemed to know it, too," Sam said, accusingly.

"I was playing a part, Sam," McKenna offered, already knowing that her excuse wasn't going to work. "And a pretty good one, if I do say so myself, because it worked. I told it exactly what it wanted to hear."

"Now who's the one lying?" Dean scoffed. "That demon knew your name, McKenna. It knew _exactly_ who you were. And it was pretty damn obvious that you've tangled with it before."

McKenna pushed out a heavy sigh and looked away, unable to keep up with all of her secrets anymore.

"Now, we all just worked a pretty heavy job together," Dean, continued. "As far as I'm concerned, that makes us all pretty tight, so I think you owe us the story of how the hell you knew that thing."

McKenna's hand gripped the top of the car door. Her knuckles turned white against the silver metal. She could feel tears sting her eyes, begging to be released, but she refused to set them free.

"I have to go," she choked, and began to climb into the car.

"Kenna…" Dean began, and reached to take her arm again.

Without a single word, she reared back, and punched Dean, square in the face. Sam caught his brother just before he hit the ground, and pulled him back up to his feet. Without even looking back, McKenna climbed into the Shelby, and peeled out of the parking lot.

Dean shook off the hit as best as he could, and tenderly wiped the blood away from his nose. He staggered over to the Impala and opened the door.

"Get in the car, Sam," he grunted. "We're going after her."

"Dean, come on, no. We can't do that. We don't even know where she'd go."

"Sure we do," Dean argued. "She only has one place to go."

Sam looked over the roof and smirked at Dean. "Bobby's?"

"Bobby's," Dean nodded. "Let's go."

**-Up next: The truth comes out...**


	9. Chapter 9

"If I'd known it was one of yours, I would've said something," Bobby said, softly. "You know that, right?"

McKenna nodded, but continued to stare off the porch, into the oncoming evening twilight. She didn't want to breathe, much less even talk, but the words came spilling out of her mouth, completely against her will.

"You know, I don't even remember all of their names, Bobby," she began. "I've blocked a lot of that out, but I remember their eyes…and every single thing they did to us."

Bobby reached out and placed a gentle hand on McKenna's knee. She initially jerked at the contact, but he refused to remove the innocent touch. After a few seconds she relaxed, and even placed her hand over his, allowing the comfort he was offering to flow into her body.

"I hit Dean," she said, suddenly. "Clocked him right in the face."

Bobby stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide with wonder, before cracking up into hysterical laughter. "Well, if you hit him, I'm sure he deserved it."

"He didn't," McKenna argued. "He and Sam heard what the demon said to me. They knew right away that it knew me, and that I had tussled with it before. They figured it out, and started asking questions. I got mad, hit Dean, and drove here as fast as I could."

Bobby squeezed his hand around her knee. "Then you know they'll be right behind you. Those boys are probably on their way here, right now, as we speak."

"Then I better be on my way," McKenna groaned, and stood to her feet.

"Kenna, I think you should tell 'em."

She turned back and stared at Bobby. "All this time in that wheelchair must be making you senile, old man," she chuckled.

"I'm serious," Bobby said. "I think you should tell 'em."

"Bobby, they'd never understand."

"Yes, they would," he argued, gently. "You went through hell, Kenna. And believe me, those boys know an awful lot about that."

McKenna stood there silently, embracing the night's darkness, for a very long time. Finally, she glanced over at her bike in the driveway and smiled.

"Bobby, I'm going to go for a little ride," she said, silently giving him permission to tell Sam and Dean where to find her when they showed up. "You know where I'll be."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

A half hour later, Dean pulled onto a gravel road, and followed it all the way to the dead end Bobby said they would find. Though describing it as a dead end was really pushing it. Sheer cliff suited it a little better. The Impala's headlights shone across a familiar Harley as Dean brought the car to a stop. He turned the engine off, but left the lights on.

Sam craned his neck out the passenger side window, and looked as far ahead into the darkness as the headlights would allow. "It looks like there used to be a bridge here."

"Yeah, that's what Bobby said," Dean agreed. "He said they tore this one down and built a new one a few miles away, on the main road. He said McKenna comes here a lot to think."

Sam and Dean climbed out of the car, each grabbed a flashlight, and began to walk toward the edge of the cliff, finding the telltale remains of what used to be the old bridge as they went. On the last trestle, they finally found who they were looking for.

McKenna was sitting on the long beam, legs bent and pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees.

Dean frowned. She looked so small, so broken, and alone.

"Kenna?" Sam questioned, softly. For a long time, she didn't say anything. Her eyes just remained steady, staring out over the ravine, out into the darkness. As her silence continued, Sam pulled a picture from his back pocket and crouched down next to her. "Bobby told us to give this to you."

McKenna reached out, took the photo from his hands, and looked at it. Staring back was a little girl of about nine years of age. Surrounding her was a large group of robed men, two of them resting a hand on each of her shoulders. The little girl was smiling, but to the trained eye, it was obvious that she didn't mean it.

"You guys know anything about the bridge that used to be here?" she asked, suddenly. "About where it used to go?'

Sam shook his head as Dean sat, joining his fellow hunters on the ground.

"There used to be an old, religious sect across the ravine," McKenna began. "A group of men who called themselves the Brothers."

A light went on in Dean's eyes. "I've heard of them," he said. "Bobby mentioned it once. They were some of the sickest devil worshippers on the planet. I thought it was all just hunter legend, though."

"It was far from legend, Dean," McKenna whispered, and glanced back, over her shoulder at the brothers. They were both now sitting on the trestle with her, their eyes steady on nothing else but her.

"Seven years ago, after rumors spread about the Brothers being involved in some…" she paused, pursed her lips in disgust, and forced herself to continue. "_Unscrupulous_ activities. The local cops never had enough evidence, but a renegade group of hunters knew better. They believed that the Brothers weren't human. They believed they were demons. And they were right. The Compound was finally raided on May 23, 2002 and fourteen children were found. All of them girls. All of them under the age of fifteen."

Sam and Dean glanced at one another for a long, silent moment. They each knew what the other was thinking. They each knew, or at least had some sick idea, of what must have happened to the girls.

"Whose children were they?" Sam asked.

"They were all kidnapped," McKenna whispered. "From all over the country. Taken from their beds at night, and their parents savagely killed. Then, they were taken to the Compound, and never seen again."

Tears stung at her eyes, and after seven long years of fighting them off, McKenna couldn't hold them back any longer.

"The things that were done to those girls," she sobbed. "They were things you wouldn't do to an animal, much less another human being, _much less_ a little girl. Things two consenting adults would never even _think_ of doing…"

The brothers closed their eyes and looked away, both unsure if they could take much more. But, Dean had to ask. He had to know. She couldn't have been one of the hunters. She would have been too young…

"Kenna, were you one of the hunters that raided the Compound?"

"No," she answered, softly, as if in a daze. "I was one of the girls they took."

A tear slid down Sam's cheek, and one from Dean quickly followed.

"When I was five, I was taken from my own home, from my own bed, in the middle of the night by two robed men," McKenna cried. "They killed my parents right in front of me, and took me to the Compound. There were other little girls there. Some of them older than me, and believe it or not, some of them, younger, too. They brought me across the bridge, and I lived there for ten years. Ten long years."

Dean watched her, wanted to reach out and comfort somehow, but there was nothing he could offer that would ever be enough.

"Over the years, girls would come and go a lot," McKenna went on. "Usually by the time they reached their fourteenth birthdays, they disappeared."

"But you said you were fifteen," Sam argued, gently.

"The Brothers always told me that I was special. That I was their favorite. So, when my fourteenth birthday came and went, I was pretty surprised that I was still alive. They kept me around for a full extra year, probably longer if the hunters hadn't shown up."

McKenna stopped for a moment, wiped her eyes with already wet fingers, and kept going. "I used that extra time to plot an escape plan, to get me, and the rest of the girls out of there. They usually kept us down in the cellar, away from the light of day, but one day, I heard a bunch of trucks pull up, and heard people talking. I grabbed the rest of the girls, and got them out through the old vent shafts in the ceiling."

Sam and Dean wanted to stop her, wanted to tell her that the rest could wait for another day, but the words kept coming, and they somehow seemed to be healing her.

"When we got outside, there were people running around everywhere. Red and blue lights were flashing from the cop cars. The EMTs grabbed up the other girls, and took them to the hospital. I stayed behind. I had to make sure the other girls were taken care of, first."

"Where were the Brothers?" Dean asked.

"Gone," McKenna whispered. "Just…gone. There were nine of them, and somehow, they all managed to just slip away."

She glanced down at the picture that Sam had given her earlier.

"That little girl was me," she whispered and reached up, spreading her right hand across her bare collarbone. Her left went down and reverently touched the photo.

"I miss that necklace," she said, pointing to the silver and turquoise butterfly charm the little girl was wearing. "I must've lost it when I broke out of the Compound, because I never saw it again after that."

"But, what happened, McKenna?" Sam questioned, suddenly. "What happened to you after you got out?"

McKenna smiled softly, and almost chuckled as a new memory popped into her head. "I had finally gotten the last girl into the ambulance, and I was so tired. I was all but dead on my feet, when all of a sudden, this man came out of nowhere. He picked me up, carried me to his truck, and took me to the hospital, himself."

She stopped, looked at the boys, and actually smiled. "He said his name was Bobby Singer."

Sam and Dean looked up and just stared at each other. It had all come full circle. How Bobby knew her. How he'd come to be so protective of her, and how he kept her hidden from other hunters.

But there was still one question that hadn't been answered. One thing that still didn't make sense…

"Kenna, how did you become a hunter?" Sam asked.

"I blamed myself for the Brothers getting away, Sam," she began, softly. "The last couple years that I was at the Compound, the Brothers started letting me have more freedom. They let me go into town to get supplies by myself. I started mentioning to people where I was from. And that's what started the suspicions toward the Brothers, and what finally brought the cops and hunters in. But they got away anyway, and it was all my fault."

"That's not true, Kenna," Dean said. "You saved all those girls."

"No, I didn't, Dean," she sniffed, and tried to wipe a few tears away. Sam and Dean looked at her, a frown etched over both of their faces.

"The fourteen girls I saved? They're all dead now. Car wreaks, freak accidents, Murders, Cancer, other illnesses. Each of them died very painful, very tragic deaths. And all within only three months of us walking out of the Compound."

"But, why? I don't understand," Sam whispered.

"Neither did I. Heck, I still don't," McKenna agreed. "All I knew was that I had to get those filthy demons for what they did to my girls…and what they did to me."

"So you went to Bobby," Dean stated. "And he taught you everything he knew."

"That's right. But I went out on my own, and learned more, too. Like the ritual we performed today. That demon's back in hell now, and it will _never_ come out again."

"How many more do you have left? And how have you been tracking them all these years?" Sam wondered, aloud.

"After today, I have three left," McKenna clarified, quickly. "And they're still up to their old tricks. They follow what they're attracted to most: Little girls. I keep an eye out for child abuse cases, mostly. Follow the kids, find my demons."

Sam and Dean nodded. No wonder she worked so well with children. They were all she knew, all she truly cared about. And she would clearly stop at nothing to save a child from the hell she went through.

"_Yes, hell, Dean,"_ a familiar voice suddenly echoed into Dean's ears. He glanced up, looking to Sam and McKenna, though he already knew that they hadn't heard it.

_Cas, _he thought.

"_McKenna has come into your life for a reason, Dean." _

Dean said nothing, attempting to appear normal to his fellow hunters. He tried his best to ignore the angels' words, but Cas continued to speak.

"_She experienced hell, Dean. Just like you did. The only difference is that McKenna didn't die. She lived through it, and is still suffering." _

Dean nodded emphatically as Sam and McKenna continued to talk, though he didn't really hear one word of it.

"_McKenna is very special, Dean. There's a much bigger picture, here. And it's your job to find out what it is…" _

Behind him, Dean felt a gust of wind brush the back of his neck. He turned, but saw nothing.

Sam looked up and his brother and frowned. He had felt it, too. He glanced at Dean and mouthed one word, _"Cas?"_

Dean nodded, and pulled himself up to his feet. Sam followed, and gently pulled McKenna up with him. Her tears were falling freely now, and Sam hesitantly reached up, placed a gentle arm around her shoulders, and led her toward the Impala. She jerked at his touch, at first, but then seemed to accept it.

McKenna is very special…

Dean closed his eyes, and wondered at what Cas had said…and what it all really meant.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hell?" McKenna balked. "Hell. _The_…hell. The real one."

"Yeah, the real hell," Dean said again, and almost chuckled.

"You went to hell," McKenna said it again, and again, and then one more time, but she still couldn't fully comprehend what was being said to her.

To pull herself away from the situation a bit, McKenna glanced at the Impala's passenger side mirror, and watched as a single headlight followed closely behind them. She was thankful that her Harley wouldn't have to spend the night at the ravine alone, thankful that Sam knew how to drive a motorcycle well enough to get it back to Bobby's.

"With everything you've seen, everything you've lived through, is it honestly that hard for you to believe that I sold my soul for Sam, and went to hell?" Dean asked.

McKenna bowed her head in disgrace. Dean was right. She should believe his every word, with no questions asked.

After all, he had believed her…

"You just told me that you went to hell, and I believe you. I really do."

"Thanks," Dean said, and meant it.

"Can I ask you a question, though, Dean?" McKenna asked.

"Sure," he shrugged. "Shoot."

"How did you get out?"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Thankfully, Dean didn't have the chance to explain to McKenna how he had managed to escape from hell. Bobby's driveway came into view, and the house quickly followed. He didn't have time to tell her about Castiel, Chuck, Zachariah, Lucifer, or Michael.

He knew she was aware of the fact that he and Sam had technically started the Apocalypse, but according to Bobby, she had no idea that they had released the devil, himself.

She also didn't know that Lucifer wanted Sam, or that Michael wanted Dean. And for now, for just a little longer, he wanted to keep it that way.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the house, and Sam pulled McKenna's Harley up behind him. He dismounted, placed the bike on its kickstand, and moved to open McKenna's door for her.

"Dean," she said, softly, just before Sam helped her out of the car. "Thank you for telling me about what happened to you in hell."

Dean nodded, meaningfully. "Thanks for telling me about what happened to you in yours."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean glanced back over his shoulder as he watched Sam head upstairs to go to bed. McKenna had already been upstairs for over an hour, and Dean hoped she would be able to get some sleep. After everything she had done today, she was certainly going to need it. And thankfully, Bobby had already been in bed by the time the hunters had returned home.

When he heard enter their room, and shut the door behind him, Dean barreled his way out the front door, and into the driveway. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and pressed it to his ear. He didn't even give the man on the other end a chance to say any greeting, before he began to shout out harsh demands.

"Cas, you better get your angel ass over here to Bobby's right now, or else I'll come find you, and bring you here, myself."

Dean closed his phone, and shoved it back into his pocket. He knew that he would never be able to follow through on his threat, but it made him feel better to get rid of at least some of his pent-up frustration, anyway.

A strong gust of wind against Dean's back spoke of the angels' immediate presence. He turned and looked at Castiel, instantly reminded that the last time he'd seen him had been when he and Sam had tried to kill Lucifer.

When Jo and Ellen had died…

"You mind telling me what the hell that little ESP conversation was all about?" Dean demanded. "You haven't pulled that bull in a pretty long time, so I hope you had a damn good reason for doing it."

"I did, Dean," Castiel said, simply. "And I already explained everything to you. There's a bigger picture, but it's up to you to figure it out."

"You know I hate it when you talk in riddles, Cas," Dean growled. "I thought we were past all that. And what do you know about Kenna, anyway? You've never even met her."

For a long time, Castiel was silent.

"Right?" Dean asked again.

He blinked, and Cas was gone.

Dean clenched his fists, and screamed. "Dammit!"


	11. Chapter 11

Sam woke up the next morning to the sound of his brother screaming.

"Sam! Sammy, get your ass down here!"

Sam threw the covers out of his way, sprung out of bed, and grabbed the dagger beneath his pillow. He took off in a sprint, out into the hall, and down the stairs, nearly falling flat on his face as he went.

"Sam, come on!" Dean shouted from the kitchen. "Today, Sammy!"

Sam reached the kitchen doorway and stood poised, dagger in hand, ready for action. He took a few deep breaths, and a few moments to notice his surroundings.

For the first time, he finally saw that the sun was out, birds were singing, and things seemed…normal. Dean was sitting with Bobby at the kitchen table, while McKenna stood at the stove in pajamas and a thin robe.

"Dude, check it out," Dean smiled. He actually _smiled_. "McKenna's cooking. It's a homemade meal, Sammy. When's the last time we had one of those?"

Dean was grinning. He was happy. Something that Sam hadn't seen in his brother in a very long time.

Sam placed his dagger on the kitchen table with a chuckle, and took a seat next to Bobby. He inhaled the morning scents, took in the aroma of eggs, bacon, and coffee. But more than that, he took in the sounds. The sizzle of grease in a hot pan, the drip-drops of coffee being poured into a nearby mug.

But there was one that caught his attention, more than the rest.

It was McKenna.

She was…humming. It was a familiar song, one he had heard someone hum before. Sam glanced up with a smile, and found that Dean was humming along with her.

"Dude," Sam said, softly. "Are you humming Metallica?"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

After breakfast, Sam found Dean and McKenna on the front porch. Dean was sitting comfortably on the porch swing, while McKenna was pacing back and forth, nearly wearing a hole in the wood, below. Sam joined his brother on the swing and jerked his chin at McKenna.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is she all right?"

"I don't know, man. I think she's starting to go stir crazy, "Dean answered. "This is probably the longest she's ever crashed at one place before."

"Plus, I can't imagine her being super comfortable around us now," Sam added, softly. "After everything she told us last night."

"You're only about ten feet away, guys," McKenna called from her side of the porch. "And _she's_ not deaf."

Dean chuckled. "Hmm, I guess Bobby was right about that sense of humor thing, huh, Sammy?"

"Yeah I'm starting to go a little stir crazy," McKenna began. "I want nothing more than to get in my car, or jump on the Harley, and go kill something bad. So, you're right, Sam, I don't really like either one of you right now, and I wish I'd never told you anything."

She took a few steps forward, let out a sigh, and sat down on the porch steps. Dean slowly got up from the swing, and joined McKenna on the steps. She veiled her face behind her long hair, and carefully slid a few inches away from him.

Apparently, Dean had gotten too close, but for now, he chose to ignore it.

"You know it's funny," he began. "I always thought that when girls were upset or stressed out, they'd go shopping, or spend the day at a spa, or something like that."

McKenna glared at Dean, and Sam chuckled from the swing.

"But you're different, aren't you, Kenna?" Dean continued. "You're a hunter, and you'd rather go gank a demon or a monster, or something, right?"

McKenna looked away, and nodded.

"You want to try going on another hunt with us?" Sam offered. "You can pick the job, the place, whatever you want."

"Maybe we can try to find another one of your guys," Dean whispered with a shrug. "If that's what you want."

McKenna shot a fleeting sidelong glance at him, her gaze one of question and distrust.

"Hey," he smiled, and nudged her gently with his elbow. "You've got us now. You don't have to take this walk alone anymore, okay?"

McKenna tossed her back over her shoulder, and out of her face. She hesitantly looked up at Dean, and smiled back.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"So, Castiel said that McKenna's special?" Sam asked while he carefully loaded his favorite shotgun. "What does that mean?"

"Well, hell if I know," Dean grumbled as he packed a nearby dagger into his duffel bag. "He pulled that disappearing, Houdini trick on me before I got a straight answer."

"Well, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out, Dean. Kenna is pretty special," Sam said with a definitive cock of his weapon.

"Yeah, sure she is," Dean, agreed, his left eyebrow arching up in sarcastic consideration. "You got a little thing for Kenna, there, Sammy?"

Sam frowned. "No, I'm just saying that you have to admit, we've never met a woman quite like her. She's one of the best hunters out there."

"And she's good with weapons," Dean agreed.

"She's compassionate to the victims," Sam added.

"She drives that car like she stole it."

"She really knows her rituals."

"She's kinda pretty."

"She's loyal to the job."

"She's got a little extra meat on her bones that just makes her…hmm."

"She's a real survivor."

"Dude, she _smells_ like apple pie," Dean moaned.

Sam finally looked up, and just stared at his brother. "Yeah…okay, Dean. I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that last part."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Thanks, dude."

Sam stood to his feet, packed up the last of their weapons, and proceeded to leave the room. "How about we go see how Kenna's coming in finding a job, all right?"

-Not a whole lot of "depth" to this chapter, but after the last two, I thought we might need just a little comedic relief. I love hearing from ya'll, so please review!


	12. Chapter 12

"I think I've got us a job," McKenna called over her shoulder as Sam and Dean entered the living room. She pointed to her laptop screen with one hand, and began to sift through the growing pile of papers on the desk with the other. The boys took a seat on either side of her, and began to look over her research.

"There's a fifteen year old girl that was brought into the hospital about two hours from here," McKenna began, her forefinger skimming over the screen as she read the main headline.

"She had been missing for ten days when she was finally found, beaten and unconscious, by the side of the road. When she woke up, she started screaming that a man had kidnapped her from her bed, held her captive, and tortured her in a dungeon."

Sam shuffled through the rest of her papers and let out a heavy sigh.

"McKenna, as horribly similar as that is to what happened to you, that doesn't mean it's necessarily one of yours," Sam began, solemnly. "And, I absolutely hate to say it, but this stuff happens everyday. How do you know this is a case for us?"

"Look at the numbers, Sam," McKenna said, pointing to the screen. "She's fifteen. That's how old I was when I broke out of the Compound. And she was missing for ten days. That's how many years I lived there."

Dean sighed and adverted his eyes. It was easier to listen to McKenna talk about her past when he didn't look at her.

"In my experience with this stuff, there's no such thing as coincidence, guys" McKenna said. "I think it's worth looking into, but if you two don't want to go, I completely understand."

"We're going," Dean stated, roughly. "I think I can speak for Sam too, when I say that we both want to help you finish this thing."

Sam nodded his agreement. "I'm in. Let me go finish packing."

"No suits?" McKenna asked, calling over her shoulder.

"No suits," he promised.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam held open the back door as McKenna climbed out of the Impala. She had spent at least twenty minutes before they left, arguing with Dean, begging him to let her ride in the Shelby on her own, but he had refused her, over and over again.

"Strength in numbers, Kenna," he had said. "Plus, it's only two hours away. And I'll be on my best behavior, I promise."

McKenna had finally relented, and climbed in the back seat. True to his word, Dean kept his constant jokes and sarcasm to a minimum.

"What's the girl's name, again?" Dean asked as he joined Sam and McKenna outside the girl's hospital room.

"Emma Corzine," McKenna answered, glancing into the room through the small window in the door. Her fingers went up and absent-mindedly traced the glass. She took note of every cut along the girl's jaw, ever scrape against her dry, calloused skin.

Emma was a complete stranger, but McKenna felt as though she'd known her all her life.

"Would you guys mind if I went in first?" she asked the boys, but didn't look at them as she said the words. "I'd like to have a few minutes alone with her."

"Kenna, are you sure?" Sam asked, softly.

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Kenna…" Dean began, ready to jump forth with another argument.

"I'm okay, Dean," McKenna offered. "Really. I do this all the time. I'm okay."

Dean frowned, but kept his opinion to himself. She wasn't okay, or at least he knew he wouldn't be if he were in her situation. He couldn't come to grips with how on earth she was able to listen to others speak about what happened to them. Especially since the horrible things that had happened to them, had originally happened to her.

He placed a gentle, and hopefully non-threatening, hand on the small of her back. "We'll go get a couple rooms for the night. Call us if you need anything, okay?"

McKenna nodded, and entered the hospital room as quietly as possible. She closed the door behind her, and stood up on her toes to look out the window, trying to make sure that Sam and Dean were really gone.

She turned back to the sleeping girl in the hospital bed, and carefully inched forward. The biggest mistake she could ever make right now, would be to frighten her, especially while she was asleep. But she didn't have time to worry about it too much.

Emma opened her eyes and gasped. "Who are you?"

Her speech was slurred, hampered behind pain meds and an extremely swollen, split lip. She looked up at McKenna with just one eye; the other one too puffed up and bloody to do much good. Her scarred hands clenched the blankets beneath them, while her whole body stiffened up in expectation of attack.

"I'm not going to hurt you," McKenna whispered. "My name's McKenna, and I'm a friend, I promise."

Emma instantly disregarded her greeting. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask you a few questions, if that's all right."

"You a cop?"

"No," McKenna chuckled, wryly, her mind wandering off to an image of Sam and Dean in their suits. "I'm just someone who saw you in the papers, and I thought you might need a friend to talk to."

"Why would I want to talk to you?"

"Because, um…" McKenna struggled. "What happened to you…happened to me, too."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut and moaned, the movements making her whole body cry out in pain.

"And if you tell me a little about what happened, I think I might be able to catch the guy who did this to you," McKenna offered. "And make sure that he never does this to anyone else, ever again."

Emma seemed to pause, and think about McKenna's words. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and let out a long, tearful sigh. "How can you do that? The cops have been working my case for two days, and they still don't have anything."

McKenna pulled a tissue from the nearby box on the nightstand. She brought the tissue close to Emma's face, but paused before making any contact. The girl nodded her consent, and McKenna gently dabbed her tears away, careful not to rub too hard over her bruises.

"I do things a little differently than the cops," McKenna began. "I actually listen to what people say."

Emma managed to chuckle at McKenna's little dig, and appeared to relax a bit. McKenna gently sat down on Emma's bed, and smiled her signature grin. "Do you think you can handle me asking you a few questions?"

Emma nodded, and McKenna smiled softly at her bravery.

"Did you see the man who took you? Do you know what he looked like?"

"He had, umm…" Emma paused, and sniffed. "He was really tall, and big, and he had dark hair."

"Do you remember seeing any black smoke?" McKenna asked. "Or did he have strange colored eyes? Were they black, or red, maybe?"

Emma frowned, even though it obviously hurt her to do so. "No. No, nothing like that. What are you talking about, anyway?"

McKenna was losing her. And fast.

Maybe she had been wrong about this girl. Maybe she had just been looking for her demons too hard, and only saw what she wanted to see. Maybe Sam had been right. Maybe this was just another non-supernatural example of tragedy and violence against an innocent, teenage girl.

Sometimes people didn't need demons to do this kind of evil. Sometimes they could do it all by themselves…

"Kenna?" a gentle voice pulled her away from her jumbled thoughts, and back into stark reality. She turned and found Sam and Dean at the door. Emma's body seized up at the sight of male intruders in her room, and McKenna reached down and took her trembling hand within her own.

"It's all right, Emma, these guys are with me. This is Sam and his brother Dean. They're friends of mine," McKenna said, uncomfortably noting how much easier it was getting to call them that.

"But don't worry," she continued, discreetly shaking her head at the boys, silently alerting them that this wasn't their kind of gig. "I think I have all the information I need, so we'll just get out of your hair."

McKenna released Emma's hand, and proceeded to head toward the door.

"Hey, McKenna, wait," Emma called. "There's one more thing. I don't know if it'll help any, because the cops didn't think anything of it, but here…"

Emma painfully reached down and grabbed the bottom hem of her hospital-issue t-shirt. She carefully pulled it up, and revealed a small, blistered wound, high up on her ribs, just below her right breast.

McKenna's breath caught in her throat at the horrific sight of Emma's bright, red wound. She slowly stepped forward to take a closer look. Without thinking, Sam and Dean did the same. Emma saw their movement out of the corner of her eye, and shot them a threatening glance. Without a word, they both stepped back.

"He branded me," Emma whispered, shamefully as McKenna stood over her bed, looking down at her. She stared at the brand for a long time, taking in the design of a triple ringed base, with tiny thorns encircling them. It must've been a very painful experience, and McKenna's heart broke for her.

"I'm so very sorry, Emma," she whispered, brokenly. "We'll leave you alone. Try to get to some rest."

With that, McKenna turned and left the room.

She didn't even attempt to look at Sam and Dean, even when they called down the hall, after her.

She just turned her back and kept on walking.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

An hour later, Sam and Dean knocked on the adjoining door of their connected hotel rooms. McKenna opened it, but didn't really invite them in. She simply left the door ajar, and went to sit at the nearby desk.

"We brought you back a salad from the diner," Dean offered, smiling, and placed the takeout box on the desk, next to her laptop. "It's got apples on it."

McKenna looked up at him, and frowned.

"What?" he shrugged. "I thought girls liked fruit on their salads."

"I'm sorry the case turned out to be a bust," Sam chimed in, sadly. "We'll head back to Bobby's first thing in the morning."

"I was wrong, Sam," McKenna argued. "I don't think the job's over."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. "You said it yourself. The girl didn't see any black smoke, and she said his eyes were fine. Therefore, the sick bastard that did that to her is just that. A sick…"

Dean's words trailed off into nothing when McKenna rose to her feet. Her hands trembled as she reached for the bottom hem of her tank top, and waistband of her pajama pants. She separated the two articles of clothing just enough for Sam and Dean to see a small patch of skin on her hip.

Just a few inches above the waistband of her sunken pajama pants, was the obvious mark of a brand. The wound was in a different place on her body, at least ten inches south of where their victim's was. It also wasn't as raised up, and more deeply set, after years of healing into her skin, but the design, itself was an exact match of Emma's.

Sam frowned at the sight of McKenna's mark, his eyes closing in silent commiseration for the pain it must have caused her.

Instinctively, Dean's hand went up to tenderly trace the outline of the brand. McKenna's chin trembled, and she pulled away, just before his fingers could make contact with her skin. She lowered her top back into place, and closed her eyes, forcing back whatever tears were trying to escape.

"We're not going anywhere," she choked out. "We're staying right here until we find, and kill that demon."


	13. Chapter 13

After McKenna had successfully persuaded Sam and Dean to believe that she would eat the salad they'd brought her, and politely ushered them back to their room, she threw the salad in the trash, and headed into the bathroom for a nice, long, hot shower.

Like always, she scrubbed up with a loofah sponge until her skin was raw. But no matter what, the subconscious, invisible grime across the surface of her skin refused to wash away. She glanced down, and watched as her fingers traced the pattern of the brand on her hip.

McKenna hadn't planned on ever allowing Sam and Dean to see the disgusting, ugly mark. Of course, she hadn't planned to tell them her life story, either, but somehow that had come tumbling out, too.

A flash of Emma's beaten, and powerless form flickered past McKenna's eyes when she closed them. Seven years ago, that had been her. Different year, and different hospital, of course, but the same circumstance.

She couldn't get the correlation of the matching numbers out of her head. Emma was fifteen years old. And she had been held for exactly ten days.

In all her years of hunting, all the years of tracking her demons, they had never blatantly called her out like this before. She wasn't sure what to do about that, or if she should even do anything, at all.

Truth was, she didn't want to do anything. She was tired, more so than anyone of only twenty-two years should be.

Truth was, she just wanted to give up, and go home. But, sadly, there was no home to go to. The only home she'd ever known was Bobby's, but even there, she couldn't stay any longer than two, maybe three days at a time. It was better to always be on the road, constantly moving, with no friends, no relatives, and no strings attached.

But lately, she'd wanted nothing more than to forget the hunt, forget her past, and leave the demons behind. Maybe take a ride up north to Massachusetts or Connecticut, and run a bed and breakfast, right on the coast. Maybe die as a satisfied old woman, instead of a young, moronic demon hunter.

That was a dream.

That was _the_ dream that she never told anyone, not even Bobby.

Of course, there were a few things that she'd never told Bobby…

McKenna reached up, and turned the shower off when she felt the water beginning to cool. She was reaching for the awaiting towel outside the curtain, when a sudden sting, starting in her stomach, nearly took her breath away. Her hand instinctively clutched at her abdomen, and her palm was met with a white-hot, searing heat that nearly scalded her skin.

She looked down. Her scar was blood red, and looking just as fresh as Emma's had. For a moment, McKenna could have sworn that she saw tiny flames trying to char through her skin, and burn out the other side.

The pain in her stomach continued to spread, up into her chest, and down into the front of her thighs. Her hands went out, pushing aside the shower curtain, and trying to grab hold of the nearest towel. Her legs went numb, turned to jelly, and she fell out of the shower, pulling the towel down on top of her.

"Dean," she called, softly, her voice hoarse and quiet. "Sam."

McKenna did her best to tuck the towel in around her naked body. Even now, in unbearable pain, she couldn't risk anybody seeing her without her usual armor of clothing.

"Dean! Sam!" she tried to shout, but her voice simply refused to go any louder than a shrill whisper. "Help me…please, help me."

They would never hear her, never get to her before she died.

Her eyes drifted closed, as she felt her body begin to succumb to unconsciousness…

A sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through McKenna's body. Her eyes snapped open, her strength returned, and she stood to her feet. The pain still thrummed in her abs, hips, and, pelvis, shooting through her every vein, and spreading out to the rest of her body.

She suddenly felt empty, hollow, like her soul had completely detached itself from her body. And maybe, after all the years of loneliness, and seclusion, it had finally done just that.

She could see herself walking out of the bathroom, soaking wet, and clad in only a towel. She felt her toes against the cheap, shag carpet, her fingers wrapping around the front doorknob, pulling it open, and letting herself out. She felt the pavement in the parking lot beneath her bare feet, and tiny pebbles of gravel poking up, through her skin.

McKenna could feel the cold, night air prickling against her already stinging flesh, but she could do nothing to stop it. She heard a barrage of cars honking their horns, and slamming on their breaks, trying to avoid hitting her as she crossed a busy street.

Darkness surrounded her as she headed down a hill below the road, and into the woods.

She couldn't have stopped herself, even if she tried. McKenna was gone, and she could only watch as her body took off without her.

And the worst part was that she had no idea where she was going, or who on earth was taking her there…

**-Please review. Lots of love! -Leigh**


	14. Chapter 14

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean entered their hotel room. "Anything?"

Dean held up a finger to silence his brother, and concluded his phone conversation with short, curt sentences.

"All right. Yeah. 'Kay, we'll see you in a bit. Thanks, Bobby."

"You called him?" Sam asked, completely shocked that Dean had done so.

"I had to," Dean said, defending himself. "Hell, it's been two freakin' days, and we still haven't seen, or heard from Kenna. So, Bobby's on his way right now…and I think he's probably gonna kill us as soon as he gets here."

Dean tossed his phone on Sam's bed, and turned to collapse on his own with a heavy sigh. "He blames us for losing her."

"Well, why wouldn't he, Dean?" Sam accused. "He figured that Kenna would be safe with us, but now she's God-knows-where, wearing nothing but a towel."

Dean lifted his head from the mattress. "Nothing but a towel?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I found a guy who was driving by the hotel on his way home from work the other night. He said he saw a blonde, soaking wet woman, wearing only a towel, walking into oncoming traffic."

"And you think it was Kenna?" Dean scoffed. "Sorry, Sammy, but the idea of her going outside, sporting nothing but a towel doesn't really sound like her."

"The guy said that she was moving slowly, deliberately, almost like she was in a trance," Sam explained. "Sounds a little like our kinda deal."

Dean closed his weary eyes, trying to fight off an oncoming wave of sleep, when his cell phone began to ring.

"Sam?" he grunted, silently directing his brother to answer his phone for him. Sam did as he was told and immediately took the call.

"Hello?"

On the other end, Bobby spoke only three words.

"I found her."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"Turn left up here," Sam commanded, reading off the directions he'd gotten from Bobby earlier. Dean hit the breaks and made a hard left, wasting no time in meeting up with Bobby and finding McKenna.

"So what'd Bobby say exactly?" he asked, again.

"He said he got a call from another hunter about thirty minutes away, saying he'd seen a girl matching McKenna's description," Sam explained. "She'd wandered onto his property, and kept on going. He looked, but couldn't find her after that."

"Well," Dean breathed. "We will."

He gunned the engine, and hurried on, hoping every mile would bring them that much closer to finding Kenna alive.

Dean slammed on his breaks when he saw Bobby's car, and the Impala skidded on the gravel road for a moment before finally coming to a stop. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket as he and Sam climbed out of the car. He dialed a number, but when he heard Bobby screaming their names, he immediately closed his phone again.

"Bobby?" Sam shouted, hoping his voice would carry over, what sounded like a nearby, rushing river.

"Boys, get down here, quick!" Bobby screamed, and they instantly took off down a steep embankment on the other side of the gravel road. They nearly slipped the whole way down, but it at least managed to get them there quicker.

Bobby was at the bottom of the riverbed, trying to push past a wall of thorns and briars, using only his bare hands.

Sam reached him first, and pulled him back from the impossible deed. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Bobby's bleeding hands. Even despite the apparent pain he was obviously in, Bobby didn't even try to stop himself from barking out a few orders. "Get your knives out and start cutting through this crap, boys."

Sam and Dean looked at him for a moment, and Bobby exploded. "Look through the thorns, dammit! I can just make out her hair. Half her body's submerged in that river, and if we don't get her out now, she going to drown!"

The boys could see McKenna, now that Bobby had pointed her out, and they immediately set to work in cutting in there, and getting her out. Dean got through the heavy briar patch first, and reached McKenna in only a matter of seconds.

He slipped off his coat and placed it around her freezing, half naked body, carefully supporting her head in his hands. He pulled her into his chest, hoping the tiny effort would begin to warm her.

"Kenna, if you can hear me, baby, I promise, I'm not trying to cop a feel," he murmured, softly. She moaned and her head rolled to one side at the sound of his voice, partly acknowledging that she could hear him.

"Hey, that's my girl," he chuckled. "Just stay with me, okay? I got you."

He slipped one arm under her knees, one under the back of her neck, and lifted her up, out of the river. Sam and Bobby held back the thorns, and Dean slid through with her as carefully as he could.

"Sammy, start the car, and turn on the heater," He commanded. "Bobby, call the nearest hospital and let 'em know we're on our way."

He tucked the top of McKenna's head beneath his chin, and pulled her close.

"All right, sweetheart, Let's get you the hell outta here."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Eight hours later, McKenna was still unconscious, but she was also safe, warm, and alive. Dean had sent Sam and Bobby home with the promise that he stayed vigil, by her bedside until she finally woke up. By now, his eyelids were growing heavy, and he was struggling to stay awake.

But, a sudden, strangled cry, instantly woke him up,.

"Kenna?" he whispered, placing a gentle, comforting hand on her right arm.

Her head turned toward him, but she didn't open her eyes. She moaned in obvious discomfort as a deep frown settled across her brow. A harsh sob tore from her lips as her body began to buck and writhe on the mattress.

"Kenna, hey, it's okay," Dean whispered. "It's okay, wake up."

She continued to move, her body eventually beginning to whip back and forth, her arms and legs flailing. Dean stood to his feet, and tried to hold her down. If he didn't get her calmed down, and fast, she'd rip her IV out, and really end up hurting herself.

She was probably smack-dab in the middle of one of her nightmares, and he didn't want to call for a nurse yet. He didn't want her sedated.

Not now. Not like this.

McKenna sat up in bed, and her eyes snapped open. They settled on Dean, but she didn't seem to recognize him, right away.

"It's okay, Kenna. It's me! It's me!" he finally shouted. "Stop, it's me. It's me! It's Dean!"

Her clouded vision seemed to clear at the sound of his name, and she finally looked him in the eye. Her body's movements stilled, but she remained stiff and rigid beneath his grasp. Dean slightly softened his grip on her, but didn't let her go.

McKenna's chest heaved with every breath she took, but she closed her eyes, and tried to relax, fully intent on just trying to breathe.

"Dean?" she whimpered.

"Yeah," he smiled, softly. "Yeah, I'm here. You're okay, now. You're safe."

She almost returned his smile for a moment before her chin began to tremble, and tears started to flow. She leaned forward and allowed her shaken body to collapse into his arms.

"It's okay, Kenna. It's all right. Everything's gonna be all right, now," he whispered, softly into her tangled hair. "Where the hell have you been, woman?"

"I don't know," McKenna chuckled, weakly. "But I think I kinda missed you."


	15. Chapter 15

"So, what's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked as he lounged across the foot of McKenna's bed. She rolled her eyes, sick of him asking her the same question, over and over again. She playfully kicked at him from beneath the covers, and Sam gently pinched her toes between his fingers.

"I told you," she said. "I was taking a shower, washing up, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up screaming in this hospital bed. And Dean managed to stop me from tearing the place up."

Dean looked up at the sound of his name, and smiled softly.

"Honestly, that's all I remember, Sam," McKenna shrugged. "I never saw anybody, never heard anything. That's it."

"But you were gone for two days," Sam said.

McKenna's eyebrows shot straight up, and she passed a questioning glance at Dean. "You didn't tell me that part."

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "I didn't wanna worry you."

"Well, it's a little late for that now, isn't it?" she scoffed. "Look, I just had another once-over with the doctor, and she said I was fine. All I want to do is just get out of here, and get back on the job."

"You need to rest," Sam offered.

"Well, I can do that at Bobby's for a few days."

Sam and Dean glared at her.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "You guys can come too, and make sure I stay in bed…Dean, you can keep me company."

She winked and Dean's eyes grew as big as saucers.

"I'm kidding, Dean," she chuckled. "Now, seriously, get me out of here."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna slept well that night. She didn't seem to have any nightmares. Sam and Dean didn't even hear her move, much less toss or turn at all.

The next morning, Dean sat outside on the porch, taking in the cold, crisp morning air. He looked up as McKenna joined him with a cup of coffee in each hand. She handed him a mug, and sat down next to him on the porch swing, grinning.

"Well, you're in a good mood this morning," Dean chuckled, softly.

"And why wouldn't I be?" McKenna asked. "I disappeared for two whole days, and came back absolutely fine. Nothing bad happened to me. Of course, even if it had, I don't remember anyway, so who the hell cares, right?"

She playfully slapped Dean's knee, leaving her hand there to gently rest over his. He looked down, and watched as her fingers played with the ring he always wore on his right hand. She bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall forward, and hide her eyes.

"Dean, you were really good to me in the hospital," she began. "It really meant a lot to me. I um…I've never been good with hospitals, and I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there with me."

Dean cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably on the porch swing. He placed his coffee mug on the nearby railing, finding that his hands were suddenly trembling.

"You would've done the same for me," he offered. "I mean, we're partners, right? And friends?"

McKenna nodded. "Friends," she whispered, and speared her fingers into her hair, pushing it back, away from her face.

Dean gulped, realizing that it was probably the first time since he was thirteen, that he'd been nervous around a girl. But then again, McKenna wasn't just any girl.

She was just…different.

She leaned over and placed her coffee mug on the porch floor, scooting closer to Dean as she came back up. She lifted her gaze, looked at him for a moment, and frowned.

"You have a scratch," McKenna whispered, as her thumb came out to rest at the tiny wound on his cheek. Dean jumped slightly at the light contact, realizing that it was the first time that she had actually willingly touched him.

"Yeah, um," he stammered, completely caught off guard by her sudden closeness. "I must've gotten it when I pulled you out of the river. It's not a big deal. I've dealt with worse."

"I'm sorry, Dean," McKenna whispered, leaning in. Suddenly, her lips were sliding along his cheek, over the small scrape. Dean couldn't help but close his eyes, and sigh. "Kenna."

"Shh…" she whispered against his skin. "Dean, there's something I have to tell you."

He gasped when her fingers came up, and touched his neck, finding their way onto his cheeks. "Anything."

McKenna's lips found his ear and teased the sensitive skin there.

"You see, there's just one little thing…"

"What?" Dean asked, smiling at her playfulness.

She pulled back, and whispered, "I'm not McKenna."

Dean leaned back, slightly and looked into her eyes.

They were black.

She chuckled, softly. "Dean, sweetheart, even in your wildest dreams, did you really think that she would _ever_ touch you like this?"

Before Dean could get even one word out, her hands gripped the sides of his face. She pulled forward, and then rammed the back of his head into the top of the swing. His head fell forward, limp and unconscious. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled.

"Oh, Dean…" the demon within McKenna's body murmured. "I just bet you didn't see that one comin', now, did you?"


	16. Chapter 16

Dean's head tipped forward on a moan, and a stark, shooting pain coursed up the back of his neck. He strained to open his eyes, wanting to look up, and take a look around. He was met with a washcloth dabbing at the corner of his mouth.

"Mornin', sunshine," McKenna, or what used to be McKenna, giggled. "You're drooling just a little bit, here. Let me get that for you. I mean, I wouldn't want to be a rude host, now would I?"

"Who are you?" Dean groaned. "And where's Sam? And Bobby?"

"Oh, the family's in the other room, Dean," McKenna smiled. "They're a little tied up at the moment…just like you."

For the first time, Dean looked down, and realized that he was anchored to a chair. His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles tied to the bottom legs of the chair.

"Oh, that's just peachy," he sighed. "Now, answer. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm nobody special. Just an old friend of McKenna's," the demon whispered. "I heard she was looking for me, and was getting pretty dang close, too, mind you, so I figured I'd make it easier for her, and just step in and say hello."

"How'd you get in her, anyway?" Dean asked, groaning. "She's a smart girl, a good hunter. She would've known to wear a charm, or something to protect her against possession."

"You're right, she does know better," the demon agreed. "And she always wears a charm, but sometimes, oh, _sometimes_, she takes it off when she's in the shower."

Dean groaned, finally realizing what had happened. "So you weren't lying before?" he asked. "The last thing she remembers really was taking a shower."

"Right-o, babe," the demon giggled, and began to pace around Dean in a small, close circle, surrounding him from every angle. He looked up at her, noticing her eyes. At the moment, they weren't black, but still the jewel-green color they always were.

The demon grabbed a nearby chair and turned it backwards. It placed it directly in front of Dean and straddled it, letting McKenna's arms drape over it's high back. Its hands went down and sensually caressed her upper thighs with her hands.

"I gotta admit, it's nice being back in this body again," it whispered. "Although, the last time I was in here, it was a little more intimate, if you know what I mean. And she was a lot younger."

"Shut up, you son of a…" Dean growled, and bared his teeth, as his body strained against the ropes wrapped around his body.

"That's right, Dean-o," the demon grinned, interrupting him. "I'm one of the Brothers. It's nice to meet you. You see, I've missed McKenna. I'm sure she's probably told you that she was our favorite, and that's right. She was. We loved her _so_ much more than the other girls."

"That's how you show a child that you love them?" Dean asked. "You rape and torture them for ten years?"

The demon lifted McKenna's hand, and pointed to its face. "Uh…demon!" it scoffed, as if that would explain everything.

"But why are you doing this now?" Dean groaned, his head still killing him with every word her uttered. "It's been seven years. Why the hell couldn't you have just left her alone?"

The demon cocked McKenna's head to the side, and smiled, sweetly. Dean looked away, struggling to separate the filthy demon within her, from McKenna's pretty face.

"Well, there's the bitch of the bunch, Dean, honey," the demon laughed. "See, I was doin' just fine, traveling the country, defiling the innocent, screwing up families."

The demon smiled, its gaze wandering away to another time, another place.

"But, then, you and your little bro came along, and set Daddy free," it continued. "And like all good Daddies who want more for their kids, he told us to juice it up a little. So, that's what I'm doin'…juicing it up."

"She was gone for two days," Dean mentioned. "What'd you do to her all that time?"

"Oh, you have a dirty mind, Dean," the demon chuckled. "Don't worry, I didn't do anything _to_ her. I just sat back, relaxed, and took in the memories of all the time we spent together when she was little…

"You sick, disgusting freak," Dean breathed.

The demon stood up, lifted McKenna's hand, and backhanded Dean, right across the face. His head fell back with a groan.

"No, Dean!" the demon shouted. "I'm just like you! I'm _just_ like you."

"Really? How's that?" Dean choked, leaning forward to spit out a mouthful of blood. "I've never abused a child, or done any of the other nasty things you've done."

The demon leaned forward, coming into Dean's personal space, just like it had out on the porch, earlier.

Back when he'd thought it was Kenna…

"Maybe you haven't done that, but I _am_ just doin' what my Daddy tells me to do," the demon whispered. "Don't you know a little something about that?"

The demon stayed close to Dean's face, letting McKenna's thick, blonde hair fall around them like a curtain. Her lips ghosted along his cheek, sliding over the stubble coming up over his chin.

"You know what's really awkward about this? Is that this, right here," the demon chuckled, regarding their close proximity. "Isn't even me. It's all her."

Dean pulled back, his eyebrows arching up in obvious question.

"Well, not _exactly_ her," the demon clarified. "She fights it, tooth and nail. I'm just lettin' it out a little for her. You see, Dean…besides Bobby, you and Sam are the only men McKenna's ever let get this close to her."

The demon chuckled and rolled its eyes. "I don't know, for some reason they make her nervous. I mean, Bobby's like a father to her, and she really likes Sammy. He's almost like a brother, or something, but you…you're somethin' else, Dean. She doesn't know what the hell to make of you."

"Stop it," Dean begged. He didn't want to hear about this. Not now. Not like this.

"But, believe me, Dean. You don't want this," the demon said, spreading McKenna's arms, and gesturing to her body. "I _wrecked_ this thing. I mean, you didn't say nothin' about it, but I know you saw all those scars on her when you pulled her out of the river. I mean, I like 'em, because I put 'em there, but come on, she'd never attract anybody else with those things."

"You don't know anything about me," Dean argued.

"You're the dude that started the End of Days," the demon grinned. "That's all I need to know."

The demon turned it's back on Dean, and noticed its new image in a nearby mirror. It stood there for a long time, running its hands along McKenna's curves, and admiring the beauty beneath.

Dean heard the floor creak in the hallway, and his eyes shot to the doorway. He saw a tuft of brown hair, and a familiar pair of hazel eyes peeking around the trim. Dean immediately glanced back to the demon. It hadn't seemed to notice Sam's presence yet.

Sam and Dean stared at each other for a long, pensive moment, having a completely silent conversation using only their eyes.

_Sammy, Is Bobby okay? _

_ Fine. Are you okay? _

_ I'm fine. Get me out of here._

Sam carefully, and quietly slipped the corner of a file folder around the edge of the door, allowing Dean to see that he had everything under control.

_I've got Kenna's ritual, Dean. _

_ Then get this demon out of her right now. _

Sam silently slipped into the room, a large, wooden stake resting in his right hand. He stepped up close behind the demon and lifted the weapon up, over its head. At the last second, the demon saw Sam's reflection in the mirror, and whirled around to face him. But it was too late. The stake came down and crashed over McKenna's face, knocking her unconscious, and leaving her body in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Nice job, Sammy," Dean breathed. "Now, untie me."

Sam untied his brother, helped him up from the chair, and joined him next to McKenna's fallen form. Dean crouched down next to her, and lifted her limp body into his arms.

"All right, sweetheart, he whispered. "Let's get this nasty thing out of you."

He turned to Sam, and smiled the legendary Dean Winchester grin.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's go make a devil's trap and send this son of a bitch back to hell."

-I never cuss like this, so it's kind of awkward, but I'm just trying to keep it as true-to-the-show as possible! Please REVIEW! Thanks!


	17. Chapter 17

Sam spray painted the last of the devil's trap on the floor of Bobby's living room, and stood back for a moment to admire his handy work. Bobby looked on, with McKenna's ritual papers resting in his lap, as Dean kneeled down, and unceremoniously dumped her body in the middle of the trap.

"Dean, careful," Bobby frowned. "I know the demon in there beat the holy hell out of you, but it's still Kenna."

He rolled his eyes, but to make up for it, Dean leaned forward and gently brushed her long hair away from her face.

"Still Kenna," he muttered harshly on his way up to stand. "I think that thing in there knocked one of my teeth loose."

"That thing?" Bobby chuckled. "Hell, boy. That could've just been Kenna. She don't need no demon in her to do that."

"Can we just get on with this, please?" Sam interrupted. "I'd like to get McKenna back into her own body before sundown, if that's all right with you two."

Dean pulled a flask of holy water from a bag resting on Bobby's desk. He opened it, stepped closer to the devil's trap, and flung the contents onto McKenna's limp body. The demon within her let out an unholy scream, and writhed up, her body arching into an unnatural bend.

"Wakey, wakey, honey-pie," Dean called. "Time to send you back to home, sweet home."

The demon coughed and sputtered, weakly turning to McKenna's side, before rolling over onto her belly. It looked up at Dean, through McKenna's eyes, and smiled. It sensually crawled on all fours as far as the trap would allow it, flinging McKenna's hair back, out of her eyes.

"What's the matter, Dean?" it whispered, mimicking McKenna's voice, perfectly. "Don't you like me like this?"

"You're not McKenna," Dean growled.

"Not even close," Sam agreed.

"Okay, fine," the demon, grumbled, sitting back on McKenna's heels. "But, even if you do send me back to hell, there are still hundreds, more. Thousands, even. Ready and willing to take my place. Plus…I'll just come back, anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sam stated, proudly. The demon glanced up at Sam, and watched as he pulled back the drapes. Drawn onto each window pain with white, glass markers were dozens of McKenna's special ritual symbols. The demon's eyes went black the moment it laid eyes on them.

"Yeah, you know what those are, don't you?" Dean chuckled.

"Where did you get those?" the demon asked, its voice suddenly trembling.

"We learned them from Kenna," Sam answered. "Kind of ironic, isn't? Killing a demon with knowledge from the very meat it's possessing."

The demon stood up on McKenna's feet, slipping her fingers to the skin on her hip. It tenderly fingered the red brand it found there.

"I remember this little, bad boy," it whispered. "I remember when I gave it to her. A few of the other Brothers held her down, strapped to a table, and I rammed the brand into her pretty, baby soft skin…right down to the bone."

The boys heard Bobby growl, and turned to watch him squeeze his fists around the armrests of his wheelchair. "You son of a bitch…"

"I also remember these," the demon continued as it slowly unbuttoned McKenna's flannel shirt, stripping down to the white, silk camisole beneath. The demon turned, showing off the scars that it spoken to Dean about earlier. There were faint stripes all along McKenna's back; some of them just surface scrapes, some of them deep enough to probably have warranted stitches.

"Man, I wish you were in some crazy dude's body," Dean said.

"Why?" the demon questioned.

"Because then I'd just slice you up into a bunch of tiny, bloody, little pieces. Start a garden out back and use you as fertilizer."

"You're creative, Dean," the demon chuckled. "I like that."

"Well, I _don't_ like you," Sam said, suddenly. He reached out, grabbed the flask from Dean, and flung some more holy water over McKenna's body. The demon screamed, her skin sizzled, and Sam could only hope it wasn't hurting McKenna.

"Bobby?" Sam called over his shoulder. "You ready?"

The older man didn't answer, directly. Instead, he simply began to recite the incantation from the papers in his lap. The demon immediately grunted in displeasure, forcing McKenna's head to twist, and jerk in response. It reached up, cupped McKenna's hands over her ears, trying to block out Bobby's chanting. Sam splashed the demon with more holy water, forcing it to release its hold on McKenna's ears.

It dropped to her knees, doubling over in pain, beginning to retch up black smoke.

"You'll never win, you know," the demon gagged. "My father wants you, Sam, and he's going to get you. He's going to get Dean, too. And McKenna, and Bobby, and all your angel friends. Everybody you've ever cared about."

"Well, maybe he will…someday," Sam, agreed. "But _not_ today."

Bobby uttered the last word of the invocation, and McKenna's head wrenched back, spewing thick, black smoke up, and out of her mouth. The smoke floated through the air for a moment, forming a tiny, mini thunderstorm within the confines of the living room, before taking off and flying up the chimney.

McKenna's body fell forward, completely limp to the middle of the devil's trap.

Sam and Dean rushed forward, while Bobby wheeled himself closer, all three men wanting nothing more than to make sure that McKenna was all right.

Dean dropped to his knees, supporting McKenna's head and shoulders in his arms. Sam joined him, immediately looking her over, checking her pulse, and feeling her joints, carefully testing for any possible breaks.

"Is she all right?" Bobby asked, frantically. "Dean?"

"Kenna, can you hear me?" he called, shaking her gently. "Kenna?"

"Ugh…what?" she groaned, suddenly, her head rolling back and forth in Dean's lap.

All three men let out a simultaneous sigh, each of them sending their own silent thanks up towards heaven. Dean hoisted her up, and hugged her close, completely disregarding Bobby's earlier warning about leaving her alone.

"Hi, Dean," she chuckled, awkwardly, casually patting his back with the palm of her hand. She let out a sigh, and cautiously allowed herself to relax into his hold.

"You know," she groaned. "I think I kinda missed you."

Dean pulled back, and looked at her, instantly reminded of her words when she had first woken up at the hospital. His hand shot out, grabbed the flask from Sam, and splashed some holy water into her face.

No screaming, no sizzling skin, no black eyes.

McKenna inhaled sharply, and balked at him. "What the crap was that for?"

"Nothing," Dean mumbled. "Sorry. Just double checking."

Sam and Bobby smiled, despite the gravity of the situation, and Dean pulled McKenna back in for another hug.

"I don't remember much," McKenna smiled, softly, glancing at Sam and Bobby from over Dean's shoulder. "But, I think we're all going to be okay."

**-Still more to come! Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**~Two Weeks Later~**

Sam stepped in between McKenna and Dean, hooking an elbow around both of their necks as the trio walked away from their latest completed case. McKenna reached up and wiped a drop of blood from the corner of Sam's mouth, while Dean tenderly pressed his thumb against his own bruised jaw.

"I think that might have been the hardest job we've had in a long time," Sam groaned. He playfully leaned his weight into the shoulders of his fellow hunters, nearly bringing them down with him.

"That last vampire almost had me," Dean complained. "You really saved my ass back there, Kenna."

McKenna continued to look down at the sidewalk beneath them as the group made their way toward the Shelby, waiting in a nearby parking lot. She didn't say a word.

Dean glanced at his brother, silently asking him if he had actually spoken.

"Kenna?" Sam asked, as he reached out to open the driver's side door for her.

"What?" She answered with a jump, her tone close to angry, and maybe even upset. Dean glanced down, and noticed that the keys within her hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?" he asked, softly, already taking the car keys away from her. "How 'bout you let me drive?"

Surprisingly enough, she didn't argue. Instead, she simply climbed into the car, and slid across the seat to the passenger's side.

The long ride back to Bobby's was verbally silent, but McKenna's unspoken pain within the car, was louder than thunder.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

The trio tiptoed their way up the front steps at Bobby's house, careful not to wake the older man up. Sam whispered his goodnights to McKenna and his brother, and went inside, planning to fall on the nearest soft surface, and hopefully, sleep for days.

McKenna had only reached the front doorway, when Dean touched her arm, gently stopping her from going any further.

"Are you gonna talk to me?" he whispered. "Or are you gonna live in misery for another two weeks?"

McKenna closed her eyes, and gripped the trim on the doorway until her knuckles were white. "I didn't know it was that noticeable," she whispered.

"I guess I just know you pretty well," Dean shrugged.

He was right. Over the last two weeks, McKenna had grown closer to Sam and Dean than she ever thought she would. Not only did she have a relationship with both of them as a pair, but she also had a separate relationship with each of them as well. She had gone out of her way, and even further out of her comfort zone, to cultivate what was becoming a pair of very strong, lasting friendships.

Sam had introduced her to his favorite books and research sites on the Internet, while she and Dean had spend plenty of time in the woods doing target practice together. She had learned more about their family, and how much they really missed not having one. She had even learned about her and Sam's shared fear of clowns.

Dean had enjoyed a good, long laugh about that one.

She knew their likes, and dislikes, their hopes and dreams. And they knew hers.

Well, some of them anyway.

Forming a bond of trust with them was still taking some time, and even twice as much effort. But, secretly, McKenna was enjoying every minute of it.

"You haven't talked about it at all since it happened, you know," Dean said, as he gently led McKenna to the front porch swing. "And I think it's time you did."

"Telling me what to do, Dean?" McKenna gently teased. "I'd think you'd know better than that by now."

"Don't change the subject. You know what I'm talking about."

"I was possessed, Dean. You, Sam, and Bobby saved my life. End of story."

"That's the beginning and the end of the story," Dean disagreed. "I want to hear about the middle."

"I don't remember anything," McKenna argued. "How many times do I have to say that?"

"Kenna," Dean whispered. It was just one word. Just her name. But it was enough to make her break. She looked away from him for a long moment, staring out into the late night's engulfing darkness.

"I was awake for some of it," she whispered, her voice choking up on a wave of emotion that she didn't want to feel. "I don't remember how I got there, but it was like I woke up, all of a sudden, and I was in this old, crappy cabin. I have no idea where it was, or how he found it…but I was moving around, and doing stuff, but I wasn't doing it. It wasn't me. It was horrible."

"He talked about you a lot," Dean said, refusing to say any more than he absolutely had to. "He said he just…sat back and watched your memories. I…wanted to kill him."

"That's exactly what he did, Dean," McKenna continued, her chin trembling. "He sat there like he was just watching TV, or something. I saw all the things that I had blocked out. And I thought that I remembered the worst of it…but I was wrong."

Without her noticing, Dean had carefully slipped an arm around McKenna's stiff shoulders, pulling her into a non-threatening embrace, one he hoped would comfort and soothe her. She trembled under his touch, but didn't pull away.

"After they…" she paused, looked up at Dean for a moment, but quickly turned away, still too ashamed to tell him the worst parts. "They whipped me and sliced into my skin. But they were smart. They only did it in places that would be covered by our clothes…"

Dean closed his eyes, amazed at the fact that no matter what, she never forgot about the other girls that had suffered along with her.

"There aren't words for the things I saw, Dean," she continued. "There's no…forgetting. And there's no getting better for me, because it's all in my head. And it will be there, forever. But, I wish it would go away. Even more…sometimes, I wish I just didn't feel anything. I just wish that this hole in me would go away."

McKenna's words cut him to his very core. Dean had not only heard those words before, but he had said them. He had said them to Sam, over a year ago, about the horror he'd lived through in hell. Cas had been right. They had both been to hell and back.

The only difference was that Kenna had remained alive, and on earth.

"I'm so sorry, Kenna," Dean whispered, gently pulling her into a hug.

Over the last two weeks, hugs with McKenna had become a regular occurrence, and Dean smiled into her hair when he didn't feel her stiffen up anymore.

"You're not alone anymore, though, okay?" he offered, gently. "Me, Bobby, and Sam are always here for you. We're here to shoulder the weight of this with you. You just have to let us."

"I'll try," McKenna promised, and began to pull away. Dean reached up and gently wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

"Kenna, you have to let this go," he whispered, gently.

"No," she argued and started for the door. "I can't. Not yet. I have two demons left, and until then, this hate in me is the best weapon I have."

Dean watched as McKenna walked inside, his heart breaking for her with every step she took. He had lived most of his life on a diet of nothing but revenge and anger, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

McKenna had two demons to go, but he wasn't going to let her go after them alone.

-I'm really not used to writing chick flick moments, but I thought I'd give it shot. More to come, soon. Please review! Thank you.


	19. Chapter 19

McKenna's lungs burned, chest heaved, and legs stung. She could hear Sam and Dean's feet pounding the pavement along with hers, as the trio ran as fast as their legs would carry them.

"Which is closer?" Sam huffed, his voice shouting, and coming from just over her shoulder. "The Shelby or the Impala?"

"I don't remember, Sammy!" Dean shouted. "I'm a little too busy running from all the demons…who have _guns_ by the way!"

If McKenna weren't running for her very life at the moment, she would have laughed. Five minutes ago, she, Sam, and Dean had managed to corral at least a dozen demons inside a nearby warehouse. Just as Sam had begun an exorcism, each demon suddenly brandished a firearm.

"Well," Dean had choked out. "That's new."

The trio had taken off as quickly as they could, with a long line of armed demons trailing after them. McKenna had managed to lose a few of them by separating from Sam and Dean, and weaving in, and around a line of parked cars.

Dean had miraculously wasted a few of them by lying in wait behind a nearby dumpster, and shooting them with his .45 as they ran by. Sam splashed holy water over his shoulder as he ran, at least slowing them down long enough to catch up with his companions again.

"How did they get guns?" Dean asked, for at least the tenth time since they'd first started running. "How the hell did these demons get guns?"

Sam didn't answer as he made a quick, sharp turn, leading them down a nearby alleyway.

But it was a dead end.

The trio of hunters stopped short, nearly slamming into the brick wall at the end of the alley. They turned, and tried to run back the other way, but the barrage of demons was already there, blocking their escape.

The demon's numbers had dwindled, but there were still at least twice as many demons as the hunters in the alleyway. Dean lifted his weapon, and took a shot at the nearest demon. He hit it square in the forehead, releasing the demon from its host, but unfortunately killing the human in the process.

He aimed at another, pulled the trigger, and…nothing.

Sam glanced at his brother, gritting through his teeth, "Dean…shoot them."

"I can't. I'm out," he answered, and pulled the trigger again. Still nothing. His clip was empty. They were out of ammo, out of hope, and completely out of time.

McKenna stepped back as far as the brick wall would let her. She could feel the hard surface digging into her spine, as she pressed herself back into the wall.

Sam rolled his eyes, and mentally kicked himself. The demon ambush had been completely unanticipated. They hadn't expected to run into them until at least the next day, so he hadn't even thought about packing any heat.

Neither had McKenna.

Of course, Dean was always armed, but right now, that was doing them no good.

Dean looked around, taking in every possible aspect of the current situation, and no matter how many game plans he played out in his head, none of them would get them out of this successfully.

He glanced at Sam, his precious baby brother, and smiled. Sam chuckled, the small sound offering him everything he needed to hear, but never really would: A 'goodbye', 'I'm sorry', and maybe even an, 'I love you, bro', all rolled into one.

Dean looked to the left, his head rolling against the brick wall as he took a sidelong glance at McKenna.

"Kenna…" he whispered, wanting to say so much more, but simply couldn't find the words.

McKenna felt tears stinging her eyes, as she smiled softly at Dean.

They were all hunters, and there was no other way that they would rather go, except in a blaze of glory, like this. And if this was how it would all end, then so be it…

McKenna felt Dean's hand take hold of her own, and she gave it an affectionate squeeze. She heard her pounding heart, and the demon's laughter rumbling in her ears as she closed her eyes for the last time…

Suddenly, the laughter was gone. The background noise of horns honking and dogs barking ceased. The hard pressure of the brick wall against her back alleviated. She could still feel her heart pounding. She could still hear Sam and Dean panting next to her, but somehow, something had changed.

She wanted, _needed_ to open her eyes, but was simply too afraid to do so.

"Kenna?" she heard Dean's voice, felt him squeeze her hand again. "Kenna, open your eyes. We're okay."

"No," she choked, and moved to hide her face in the crook of Dean's neck. "I don't believe you."

"Kenna, it's all right," she heard Sam say. "We're good, I promise."

McKenna slowly pulled her head from its hiding place, and finally opened her eyes.

She was back in the lot where they'd left the cars, at least ten blocks away from the alleyway full of demons. Her beloved Shelby was parked only a few feet away, and if she wasn't mistaken, she could almost swear the car was happy to see her.

McKenna looked around the parking lot taking in their new surroundings…and wondering how the heck they'd gotten there in the first place. Her eyes shifted from the Shelby, to the Impala a few spots away, and then…

To a dark haired man, wearing a white shirt, dark blue tie, and tan trench coat. He stood at about six feet tall, and had the bluest of blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Kenna, this is Castiel," she heard Dean mumble, almost as if he wasn't sure what to say. "He's, uh…an angel."

For a moment, McKenna just stood there, silent and completely dumbfounded.

It made sense, really. What else, _but_ an angel, could have gotten them out of a situation like that? But, at the moment, the miracle that he had performed, or how he had managed to perform it, didn't matter.

All that mattered was his eyes.

McKenna took a few steps forward, passed Sam and Dean, and even ignored them when they called her name. She kept walking until she was face to face with the dark haired stranger. Her head tilted to one side, and then the other. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed deep into his. For a moment, she thought she recognized him. For a moment…

Suddenly, she knew.

And from the look on the angel's face, so did he.

Sam and Dean looked on as McKenna's chin trembled, and her eyes welled up with tears. Then, she smiled, and even choked out a disbelieving laugh. Before either of the brothers could stop her, McKenna launched herself into Castiel's partially opened arms.

Sam balked, unable to understand what was happening, and leaned closer to Dean. "Umm…is she allowed to do that?"

Dean shrugged, feeling nothing short of complete, and utter disbelief. "I…think she just did…"

**-I'll be out of town at a conference this weekend, so this will be the last chapter until I get home on Sunday night. I think I'll be needing some extra reviews to get me through until then! Thank a bunch!**


	20. Chapter 20

Dean pushed McKenna into their hotel room, shoving her inside a little harder than he'd meant to. She lost her balance for a moment and fell forward. Sam caught her arm and helped her straighten up again. She shot a hot, warning glare back at Dean, but he didn't apologize.

Sam sat on one of the beds, while Dean hooked his finger through the back of a nearby chair, and wrenched it forward.

"Sit," he commanded.

Simply to pacify him, McKenna did as she was told.

"So you wanna tell us how the hell you know Cas?" Dean demanded, his tone harsh and even lower than usual.

"Cas?" McKenna questioned, looking to Sam for help.

"Castiel. The angel you just met" Sam offered, correcting his brother's nickname for him. His tone suddenly dropped an octave, now sounding accusatory. "Though it looks like this wasn't the first time you two have crossed paths."

McKenna closed her eyes for a moment, and almost smiled. When she opened them again, Dean was still standing over her, staring her down with his thick arms crossed over his chest. She pursed her lips together and stared back, silently demanding that he back down first.

After a few more minutes of their heated glare, he finally did. Dean's anger dissolved away, as he uncrossed his arms, relaxed his body a bit, and joined Sam on the bed.

"I didn't know he was an angel," McKenna finally said. "And he didn't look like that when I first saw him."

"He was in a different vessel?" Sam asked, but clarified further when he saw the look of question on McKenna's face. "A different body?"

McKenna chuckled, completely unable to comprehend the conversation they were having. It was almost too strange, to funny, even, to be real. But they were hunters. They dealt with demons every day. Why would angels be too strange to suddenly throw into the mix?

"He was definitely in a different body," McKenna, continued. "But his eyes were the same."

"And how exactly do you know him?" Dean asked again. His voice was finally gentler.

McKenna closed her eyes again, her mind's eye taking her back to where she never liked to go. Though, each time she spoke about it to Sam and Dean, it seemed to get a little easier.

"I've told you that when I was getting the girls out of the Compound, I had to shove them up through the vent shafts in the ceiling," McKenna began, and waited to see the boys nod in recollection before she continued. "Well, there were huge pipes beyond them. We had to crawl through them until we finally found a vent that would take us out of the cellar."

_The cellar. _

Dean felt a wave of nausea overcome his whole body at the very sound of the word. McKenna seemed to be able to say it as though it was nothing, just another word, but to him it had become something different. It was cold, and hard, full of repulsion and terror. It was almost as bad as when he heard the words: hell and torture.

They sent an icy ripple of disgust up his spine every time.

And now he had new words that did the same: cellar and the Compound.

"We reached a point where the vent shafts veered straight up, and we couldn't go any further," McKenna continued, her tone morphing into something softer, something lower. "I could see sunlight filter in through the vent cover at the top of the shaft, but it was too high to reach. And I was too weak to even lift the girls up to let them out."

_Too weak. _

Dean shuttered. McKenna had been too weak. Whether it had been from sleep deprivation, starvation, or from the beatings the demon that had possessed her, proved she'd sustained, he didn't want to know. All he knew was that McKenna had been too weak to even lift a few twenty to thirty pound little girls.

The more he heard, the more he had trouble understanding how she was still alive.

Dean closed his eyes on a somber thought: _If it had been me, I probably would've killed myself a long time ago…_

"But someone else showed up, didn't they?" Sam asked, instantly pulling Dean from his horrific reverie.

"Yeah," McKenna answered. "The vent opened, and a pair of hands reached down and pulled the girls up, one by one. Then after that, they pulled me up, too."

Sam and Dean leaned forward, each of them hoping that she would describe what Castiel had once looked like.

"He was a tall man in blue jeans and a white t-shirt," she explained. "He was young, blonde, and tan, but he had the exact same blue eyes. He got us out, picked up and carried the youngest girl, and led us out to where all the cops and hunters were waiting."

"Did he talk to you?" Dean asked, though he wasn't quite sure why he did.

"No," McKenna answered. "He just looked at me, touched my cheek, and kind of smiled. Not with his mouth, really, but with his eyes. Somehow I knew that everything was going to be all right."

"You never told anyone about him, did you?" Sam asked.

"No," McKenna said, shaking her head. "Not even Bobby. And no one else saw him. I had looked away from him for two seconds, and when I turned around, he was gone. I think a part of me thought that, maybe he'd never even been there in the first place. So, I never told anybody."

Sam looked down at his hands, and almost chuckled before glancing up at Dean. He spoke to McKenna, but kept his eyes on his brother. "It's almost like he pulled you out of hell, Kenna."

Dean glanced over at his brother and frowned, unable to understand what Sam was getting at.

"Yeah," McKenna agreed, unable to understand the growing correlations between herself and Dean. "I guess he did."

**-I'm so sorry it took me so long to get a new chapter out! My conference was good, but I'm glad to be back to work on this. More to come soon. Lots of reviews to me = Lots of love to you! :-) Thanks a lot!**


	21. Chapter 21

McKenna shifted her hips and slipped her bare legs beneath the covers in her uncomfortable hotel bed. She still missed her usual bed and breakfasts, the soft beds with their sweet smelling covers. And the breakfast in the morning.

Oh, the breakfast in the morning…

She shook away her reverie and pulled her laptop over her legs. If Sam and Dean wanted to spend their nights in cheap, sleazy hotels, then there was nothing she could do about that.

Her fingers swept over the keys, typing word after word into at least a dozen different search engines. She clicked the finger pad, sliding her fingertip over the surface, tapping one, twice, and again. She wished for a printer, but had to settle for taking down notes the old-fashioned way in her aged, leather journal.

"You're working without Dean and Sam?"

Castiel's voice made McKenna jump, and she quickly glanced up. He was sitting at the foot of her bed, dressed in his usual tan trench coat and tie. Dean had warned her about the angel's habit of suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He had said that Castiel usually showed up when he wasn't expected, and almost always when he wasn't wanted.

But despite Dean's warning, Castiel's sudden presence set her on edge.

"Thanks for the heads up," she muttered, as an off color thought entered her head. "Hey, what if I'd been naked, or something?"

"I would've waited until you were properly decent," Castiel said simply, as though that effortless justification would explain everything.

McKenna let out a heavy, inconvenienced sigh as her fingers began to fly over the keyboard again.

"So...what can I do for you, angel face?" she asked, noting the annoyance in his expression at her jesting.

"Why are you working without them?" he asked again.

McKenna rolled her eyes away from the screen and glanced at Castiel. She didn't like how he looked at her, like he could see into her soul. Perhaps he could. After all, he had known exactly what he was saving her from when they'd first met.

"So, I'm doing some research on my own," McKenna shrugged. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're looking for work without them. You want to run away," Castiel accused. "You want to leave Sam and Dean."

McKenna let out another sigh. This one was angry, and full of frustration. She hadn't said a word about her plans, hadn't really even allowed herself to _think_ them very much.

Truth was, she had been thinking of leaving. In fact, she wanted it more than anything, but she didn't exactly know why.

"You're scared," Castiel said, softly, reading her thoughts once again. "You feel that you've allowed them to get too close to you. That you'd be better off if you were on your own again."

"That mind reading thing is going to get old really quickly, isn't it?" she quipped.

"There's nothing wrong with having friends, McKenna," Castiel continued, disregarding her sarcasm. "Friendship is one of my Father's greatest gifts. Those who receive it often lead extremely blessed lives."

McKenna shut her laptop and placed it to the side. "Can angels have friends?" she asked.

Castiel looked down at his hands and smiled, softly. "I can."

"But you're different than other angels, though," she chuckled, softly. "Aren't you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he simply stood to his feet, stepped closer to the head of the bed, and gently touched her cheek with his hand. She was instantly reminded of the first time he'd done that. She closed her eyes when she felt a current of energy course into her body.

It was an emotion she hadn't felt…ever.

Grace, peace, support, comfort.

"That is what love and friendship offers, McKenna," the angel whispered. "If you choose to allow it into your life."

McKenna felt her chin trembling. She smiled, and finally opened her eyes.

Castiel was gone.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna shoved her hands into her pockets, and clenched them into fists, trying to seal out all the cold air she could. She could hear her heels clicking against the wood beneath her feet as she slowly ambled along the dock behind the hotel. The lights from the nearby houses reflected off the surface of the town's large lake. It was peaceful, beautiful.

And exactly what she needed.

The sleaze within the hotel walls couldn't penetrate, here. The memories that still often clouded her brain, the dirty, sullied, unclean thoughts that dwelt within her, didn't exist, right now. The ripples along the water gently soothed her aching heart, quietly relieved her wounded soul.

She glanced back at the hotel, where Sam and Dean were hopefully sleeping. With any luck, they wouldn't be waking up tonight. Although they often did, and every time, one of them would always peek into her room to check on her.

What kind of guys did that?

Friends. That's what Castiel had called them.

_Friends._

"Because you gotta have friends," a voice sang out from behind her, and McKenna turned, brandishing the small pocketknife she always kept in her right pocket.

A tall, round-faced, balding man was standing at the end of dock, grinning at her. He was wearing a dark suit and a light tie. He pointed at her knife and laughed.

"That little blade isn't going to do a doggone thing to me, McKenna, dear."

She squeezed the knife and lifted it up, in what she hoped was a clearly defensive manner. "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things," the man chuckled, taking a few steps closer. His overly polished loafers clicked noisily along the wooden dock as he slowly, methodically began to circle her. His gray eyes bore into her skull like a laser as he stared her down, watching her like a hawk ready to swoop in on its prey.

"Who are you?" McKenna whispered.

"I'm a friend of Sam and Dean's," the man answered, smiling. "Though, they don't really like me very much."

"And how do you know my name?" McKenna asked again. "Answer me."

"Like I said, I know a lot of things," he chuckled. "Like your past, all that nasty stuff. And how you came to work with Sam and Dean…and how Dean-o gives you the warm fuzzies."

"Shut up," McKenna growled. "And tell me who you are!"

A single flash of lightening split the sky, momentarily illuminating a pair of long, dark shadows, protruding from the man's back.

"You're…" McKenna stuttered, her mouth dry. "You're an angel?"

"Yup," the man grinned. "And I have a little present for you."

His big hand shot out and palmed McKenna's forehead.

She was out cold before she even hit the dock.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean looked up as McKenna stumbled into her hotel room. He leapt up from where he'd been sitting on her bed and rushed forward to help her.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "It's 2am. I was worried, sick."

"I'm fine, Dean," she mumbled and jerked her arm from Dean's firm grasp. "I couldn't sleep, so I just went out for a walk."

He let her go and watched her stumble into the bathroom. Even though he knew it was probably against her wishes, he followed her, and stood in the doorway, leaning his weight against the frame. He watched McKenna lean over the sink and douse her face with cold water before taking a few sips of the liquid from her cupped hands.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, a slight smile forming across his lips.

McKenna's back straightened as she pushed herself up, off the counter. She paused and thought for a long, silent moment. She was dizzy, disoriented, and a little nauseas. She also couldn't remember actually walking back to the hotel.

_Could I really be drunk?_

"Of course not, Dean," she finally answered, fully aware that she just might be telling a fib. "You know I don't drink."

"Yeah, I know you don't," Dean agreed. "And I think that's cute."

McKenna frowned and looked up at him.

_Cute?_

She felt a flutter deep in her stomach. Something warm…and fuzzy.

The words sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place them.

She wrenched her gaze away from Dean and made her way out of the bathroom, careful to avoid any physical contact as she passed him. His hand reached up and gently took hold of her arm.

"Hey," he whispered.

McKenna stopped and looked up, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. She noticed every drop of green there, and behind the bright color, a deep shade of compassion and patience. And something else…

Grace, peace, support, comfort.

It was what Castiel had given her earlier, only now, if it was possible, the emotions were even stronger.

McKenna watched his eyes slide down to gaze at her lips, and before she could stop herself, she glanced at his, too.

She suddenly felt her knees give out and her body slump forward. Dean caught her, gripping her arms with both hands.

"Whoa, hey. I got you. You okay?" he asked, chuckling. "I don't think I've ever gotten that reaction before."

McKenna pulled away from him and slowly walked toward her bed. Another wave of dizziness swept over her, and she reached down to steady herself with one hand on the mattress. Something was wrong.

"No offense, but…I don't think it was you, Dean."

She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes clouded with fear.

"Dean…" she whimpered, asking for help, and slowly sunk to the floor.

"Kenna!" Dean rushed forward and pulled her unconscious body into his arms. He lifted his head and screamed for help.

"Sam!"

**-You know, for once, even **_**I**_** liked this chapter. :) ****Please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

Sam impatiently tapped his foot on the overly shiny linoleum floor beneath his feet. He had been sitting in the hall outside McKenna's hospital room, alone, for over an hour now. Dean had only lasted for twenty minutes, before he was completely unable to deal with his worry and anxiety over Kenna. He couldn't stay in the thin, cramped hallway, waiting for Kenna's test results any longer, and decided to go outside and take a walk.

"Call me the second Dr. Ass-Munch shows up," he had comanded, turned on his heel, and walked away. Dean had about as much respect for doctors as he did police officers. He found most holders of both professions to be arrogant and, more often than not, downright useless.

Sam lifted his right hand and pinched the upper bridge of his nose. Just a little less than two hours ago, he had been fast asleep in his bed, actually having a good dream for once, when he heard Dean in the next room, screaming his name. He had jumped out of bed, rushed next door, and found his brother holding an unconscious McKenna in his arms.

Everything after that was nothing more than a blur, but if Sam remembered right it involved a frantic call for an ambulance, and the fastest speeds the Impala had ever seen.

The sound of expensive loafers clicking on the floor was suddenly coming his way, and Sam lifted his head. It was McKenna's doctor. Sam pulled out his phone, summoned Dean with a text message, and stood to his feet.

When Dean joined them, the doctor led him into his office, and invited them both to sit. Apparently the news wasn't good.

"Do you have any way of contacting McKenna's family?" the doctor asked, as he removed the stethoscope from around his neck and sat down in the chair behind the desk.

"No, we don't," Sam, answered. "As far as we know she has no family."

"We're it," Dean added, quickly.

"So, there was no chance for any earlier detection," the doctor mumbled, more to himself than to Sam and Dean. He leaned forward in his big, leather chair, placed his elbows on the surface of the desk, and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He let out a heavy sigh. "McKenna has cancer."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, an expression of absolute unbelief painted over their faces.

"How…"Sam paused, took a breath, and tried again. "How is that possible? She was…fine. I mean, what is it? _Where_ is it?"

"I think a better question would be to ask where it _isn't_," the doctor clarified. "It's everywhere. Her entire body is riddled with it. Her brain, her liver, her lungs. It's actually an absolute miracle that she's even still alive."

"Yeah, well I think it's a freakin' _miracle_ that got her here in the first place," Dean muttered, and stood to his feet. "Sam, you stay with Kenna. I gotta go make a phone call upstairs."

"I have a phone right here if you wish to use it," the doctor offered, pointing to the phone on his desk.

"No, thanks, Doc," Dean answered on his way out of the room. "I gotta head to the roof to make this call."

~~~~~*****~~~~~


	23. Chapter 23

As he stepped out onto the hospital's roof, Dean popped the collar of his jacket to shield the back of his neck from the ever-increasingly bitter cold. Though he had no solid evidence to go on, his gut knew exactly who was behind Kenna's sickness.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and fingered his cell phone, wondering if he should've called Cas before he came up here. It was usually easier to confront a bad angel when you had a good one on your side.

Dean took in a deep breath, held it in for a long moment, and slowly let it out, watching it leave in a foggy vapor. He didn't understand any of this. Right now, two floors beneath his feet, Kenna was wasting away in a hospital bed, suffering a brutal onslaught of horrible cancer. A super intense illness that had come on unexplainably fast.

"Zechariah." Dean said the angel's name, softly, quietly, knowing that he was always easily heard. "Zechariah…now, please."

He wouldn't raise his voice, wouldn't get angry. He was too sick, too tired. And the good-for-nothing, bastard of an angel wasn't worth it.

A flutter of wings and gust of wind announced the dreaded angel's presence. Dean felt a wall of heaviness brick up around his soul, and he refused to turn to face the angel. If this jackass wanted to screw around with Dean, Zechariah was going to have to bend to him, this time.

"Howdy, Partner," Zechariah chuckled as he slowly began to circle around him. "You're looking well."

"And you look like a douche," Dean answered, quickly.

Zechariah chuckled again, shaking a pointed finger at Dean. "You're sense of humor, boy. I know I've said it before, but it's one of the things I love most about you."

Dean completely disregarded the angel's complement. "It was you, wasn't it? You gave Kenna this cancer."

Zechariah pressed his chin back into his neck, scowled proudly, and shrugged. "All right, yeah. I'll admit it. It was me. I gave the longsuffering beauty the worst kinds of cancer possible. Well, except for stomach cancer," the angel winked, and playfully clicked his tongue at Dean. "I save that one just for, kiddo."

"Why?"

"Well, because I'd already given _you_ stomach cancer first, and you're very special to me, so—"

"Not that, you sick son of bitch," Dean growled, sick to death of his sarcasm. "Why did you do this to _Kenna_?"

Zechariah threw his head back and laughed. But not just laughed. He cackled.

"You honestly don't know, boy?" he asked, lifting his finger to his cheek to flick a rolling tear away. "That girl downstairs means more to you than even _you_ understand."

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, needing to keep them under wraps so he wouldn't do something stupid. Like bitch slap an angel.

"It's hilarious, really," Zechariah continued. "You've never done anything more than hug her a few times, touch her arm…well, you almost kissed her once, but…she was being ridden hard by a demon at the time, so I don't think that counts."

"What's your point?" Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders, and trying to remain calm. It disturbed him beyond measure, knowing that Zechariah had been watching them for so long.

"My point is that you've slept your way across the country, Dean," the angel smiled. "You're lonely: you sleep with a woman. You're tired: you sleep with a woman. "You're hungry: you eat…and then sleep with a woman. You do all that, and yet…those women never mean a thing to you."

Dean looked away, clenched his jaw, and pursed his lips. The angel was starting to get to him. If he didn't shoot or punch something soon, he was going to explode.

"But Kenna, she's different, isn't she?" Zechariah taunted. "She's special. She's…somehow innocent, despite all she's lived through."

Zechariah stepped closer to Dean, cupped one hand around his ear, and whispered, "You know, in every sense but a _technical_ one, I think she's a virgin."

Dean's fist shot out and slammed into Zechariah's jaw before he even had a chance to stop it. The angel stumbled back, rubbed his sore jaw, and shook his now aching head.

"All right, I suppose I deserve that one," he surprisingly conceded. "But, you just proved my point: you _respect_ her."

"I respect Sam, too," Dean argued, defending himself. "And Bobby."

"Yeah, but McKenna's different, and you know it," the angel teased. "Which is why I chose to use her."

"Chose to use her for what?"

"What else, you moron?" Zechariah shrugged. "To make you say yes."

Dean gritted his teeth and groaned. He should have seen it coming a mile away. Of course, Zechariah would still be after Dean to say yes to Michael. Of course, he would use any means possible to make that happen. He couldn't give the illnesses to Dean. Wouldn't dare damage the merchandise.

So, of course, he would use Kenna.

For the first time, Dean wished that the Colt could really kill an angel.

"What's in it for me?" Dean asked, just for the hell of it. "What do I get if I _do_ say yes? What happens to Kenna?"

"I heal her, or course."

"You have the power to do that?"

"I have the power to make her sick, so I have the power to make her well."

Dean thought about it for a moment. Zechariah was right about one thing: Kenna meant a lot to him. A whole hell of a lot. She was friend, family, and partner, all rolled up into one. Bobby loved her like she was his own daughter, and Sam thought the world of her.

And Dean…

Well, Dean wasn't sure how to explain how he felt about her. He'd been procrastinating about putting a name to it for weeks now, and he still wasn't ready. All he was sure of right now was that she didn't deserve this. She had been through enough, more than enough.

Zechariah let out an impatient sigh at Dean's continued silence. "You wanna go talk it over with your wife and get back to me later?" he teased.

Dean glared at him.

"All right, how about this?" the angel offered. "I'll give you some time, let McKenna stew in her life-sucking cancer for a while, and you just give me a call when you're ready to talk."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to dish out a cute quip, but the angel was gone.

"Dammit!"

Apparently, he'd forgotten not to blink.

**-LOTS of good stuff coming up soon, guys. I'm really starting to love this story. It's gone on a lot longer than I expected it to, but I've gotten some really good reviews from you guys, so I'm going to keep going. **

**I've been trying to do my best to make the story seem like it's a new compilation of actual episodes from the show, so please, let me know if that's coming across. **

**Thanks, and lots of love!**


	24. Chapter 24

A Paula Deen magazine whizzed much too close to Sam's head as he ducked to avoid being hit. McKenna's journal quickly followed, the book perfectly aimed right at Dean's head. It made contact and Dean let out a high pitch yelp.

"You morons!" McKenna screeched, and hurled another nearby book at them as well.

Sam and Dean cowered in the corner of the room, both of them remaining silent as Kenna unleashed her verbal assault.

"Lucifer and a freakin' archangel have been hunting your _asses_, and you didn't tell me?"

Still rubbing his aching head, Dean almost smiled. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you cuss before."

Kenna clawed at the pillow behind her and chucked that at them, too. It didn't do a bit of damage, but she had officially run out of things to throw. She frantically searched for something, else, but the movements only made her head swim. Her torso swayed, her eyes drooped closed, and Sam rushed forward, placing the pillow back in its original spot. Kenna fell back, and relaxed against it.

She looked up at Sam. He smiled, softly as his puppy dog eyes came out to offer a silent apology. The expression normally got Kenna to do whatever he wanted, but this time, it wasn't going to work.

"No, Sam," she growled, pointing a stiff, angry finger in his face. "That puppy face of yours isn't getting you out of this."

She heard Dean chuckle at his brother's scolding, and Kenna quickly turned her rage on him, as well.

"That goes for you, too, Dean," she snarled. "You two should have told me about this whole angel-crap stuff."

Sam opened his mouth, ready to defend their actions, but Kenna beat him to it.

"I know, I know," she groaned. "You thought you were doing it to protect me, but it didn't work, now did it? Now, I'm involved. I'm a part of this!"

For a long time, Sam and Dean didn't say a word. The hospital room was silent, save for the constant beeping of McKenna's bedside heart rate monitors. Sam stared at the floor, his hands, and then finally up to Kenna's face.

"We're going to do everything we can to take care of you. You know that, right?" he asked, softly. McKenna nodded and let Sam continue. "We're going to pull every trick in the book, talk to every single person we can, angel, demon…it doesn't matter. We're going to get you out of this."

Sam stood to his feet, took Kenna's hand in his, and pressed a kiss to the skin just below her wrist. "I'm going to go call Bobby and let him know what's going on," he began. "Then we're going to get to work. Okay?"

McKenna's eyes welled up with tears, but she fought them back with every ounce of strength she had. She squeezed Sam's hand and let him go, silently praying that he'd be able to fix this.

Sam affectionately squeezed his brother's arm on his way out, the brief contact giving Dean every single word of encouragement he ever needed: _It's going to be okay. Call me if you need anything. You can talk to her. I know you can…just don't screw it up._

Dean and McKenna listened to Sam's feet hitting the floor as he headed down the hallway, the sound growing softer and softer with every step he took. When they heard the elevator ding, and the doors slide open and closed, they truly understood what it meant to be alone.

They had spent plenty of time alone together, just the two of them, but this time it was different. It wasn't their usual situation. They weren't huddled over a laptop doing research, or out in the woods doing target practice. There was an unexplained awkwardness in the room, a heavy tension that neither of them could put a title to.

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. He attempted to lift his head once to look at her, but the movement was almost impossible.

"I'm sorry, Kenna, he whispered, so softly that she almost didn't hear him. "I'm so, sorry."

McKenna half-smiled at his body language. He looked so small, almost like a little boy that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But this was a huge, earth sized cookie jar, and the only crumbs in the bottom were angels and demons, ready to bite your fingers off it you got too close.

"No, _I'm_ sorry, Dean," McKenna argued. "I'm blaming you because it's easier, because you're here. I can't yell at that other angel guy…what's his name again?"

"Zechariah," Dean hissed, spitting the word out of his mouth like it was poison on his tongue.

"And you're positive that he's the one that made me sick?" she asked.

"Oh, he admitted to it," Dean answered, quickly. "And he was pretty damn proud of himself, too."

McKenna settled down in bed and scooted over a bit, leaving just enough room for someone to sit next to her, if he chose to do so. She crossed her ankles beneath the covers and nervously fiddled with her IV tube. "So…what do we do now?"

Dean's stance relaxed a bit, and he even managed to let out a chuckle. It was just like Kenna to want to help fix things. It was one of the things he liked most about her.

"_We_…aren't gonna do anything," he began, and finally made his way over to McKenna's bed. "_You_…are gonna stay right here and try to get better."

"Gee, thanks, Dean. That sounds fun," she said, rolling her eyes. "And what are you going to do?"

Dean let out a heavy sigh, took McKenna's hand in his, and lightly traced the back of it with his fingers. "I am…going to say yes to Michael."

McKenna's fist slammed into Dean's face so fast, that he literally didn't know what hit him. He fell of the bed, and stared up at her, from his back, on the floor. She gazed down at him and screamed.

"Like _hell_ you are!"

Dean ran a hand over his face, surprised that he didn't feel any blood. He had been hit by some of the biggest, baddest, most powerful demons on the planet, but none of them had a right hook quite like Kenna's. He pulled himself up to his feet, was just about to sit on the bed, but quickly decided that for now, it'd be better if he sat in the chair nearby

"I don't have any other choice," he muttered, softly.

"Oh, yes you do. You do have another choice, Dean and that choice is a big, fat _NO_!" Kenna argued. A frustrated tear slid down her cheek and she made no attempt to stop it. "I'll do chemo. I'll do whatever I have to!"

Despite how angry she was, her voice suddenly dropped an octave and became a soft, almost kind sound. "I will not let you give up your humanity for me, Dean. I'm not worth—"

"Yes, you are," he said, knowing exactly what she was going to say. "Yes…you are."

Those three words spoke much more than either of them was ready to discuss quite yet. Right now, there were bigger, more important things at hand.

"There has to be another way," Kenna said, gently. "Zechariah said he'd give you some time to think, right? So, let's use that time to find a way to make this go away."

Dean's head slumped forward and he stared at the floor. McKenna hooked a finger beneath his stubbly chin and forced him to look at her.

"Don't say yes, Dean," she begged. "Please, don't say yes."

He closed his eyes, and silently nodded his head.

"Promise me," she demanded.

"I promise," he agreed.

McKenna hesitantly let her hand slide down and slip into his. She pulled Dean forward until he was sitting on her bed again, and pulled him into a hug. Her hold on him gave him all the strength he needed.

"All right," he conceded, speaking the words into her hair. "We'll figure something out…I promise."

**-Please review...Thank you!**


	25. Chapter 25

McKenna fiddled with the IV tube attached to the back of her right hand. She wanted nothing more than to rip it from her body, escape from the hospital, climb onto the back of her Hog, and drive away forever.

_ I'd never even look back…_

She looked up and eyed the doctor across the room. He smiled, but McKenna refused to return it. The man was a nice guy, really. But for now, he was the bearer of bad news, so naturally, McKenna hated his guts and wished him dead.

She felt a comforting hand rest on her shoulder and looked up at its owner. Sam smiled down at her, but she still couldn't force the corners of her lips up. She looked at Dean as he stood in the corner of the room, leaning his right shoulder into the wall. He was frowning and his hands were shoved into his pockets as far as they would go. A very obvious sign that he was angry.

Bobby sat in his wheelchair next to Dean, clearly prepared to play guard dog if he had to.

"I wish I had better news," the doctor began. "I really do."

McKenna's body stiffened, and Sam released his gentle hold on her. He watched her, fully prepared for her to go into full on McKenna/Ninja mode, but her body simply wouldn't allow it.

Sam noticed that her face held no emotion. No fear, no anger. Just nothing.

"So chemotherapy isn't even an option?" Sam asked, choosing to speak for her.

"I'm afraid not," the doctor answered. "McKenna's cancer is so advanced that chemo wouldn't even touch it."

"So, it's not even worth a shot?" Bobby asked, from his place in the corner.

"We could try, yes," the doctor nodded. "But to be honest, it would really be nothing more than a waste of time."

The room was silent for a long time. Each one of them had their own thoughts, their own opinions about what could be done, but no one seemed strong enough to voice them.

Finally, Dean spoke. "So, what do we do now?"

The doctor made his way across the room, dragging his feet heavily across the floor as he went. He collapsed into the chair next to the bed, and carelessly tossed McKenna's medical file onto the nightstand.

He was the absolute picture of a man defeated. And McKenna had never been more scared in her entire life.

"I don't know," the doctor mumbled. "I really…really don't know."

He suddenly turned his body toward McKenna, directing the rest of his words at her, alone. "McKenna, we can make you as comfortable as possible, give you a nice, long-term room to stay in, but as far as treatment and healing goes…there is nothing more I can do."

McKenna glanced down at the pair of clenched hands resting in her lap. They belonged to her, but she didn't recognize them. She let out a long, quivering breath, and that simple movement, alone made her dizzy and uneasy.

"How much time do I have?" she finally asked.

The doctor looked at the floor and shook his head. "_If_ you choose to stay in the hospital, stay hooked up on fluids, and get lots of rest… five, possibly six months at the most."

McKenna's eyes grew large. "So, you're saying I don't _have_ to stay?"

Her question brought an immediate reaction from Dean. "Kenna, you can't—"

"I'm not staying here to waste away in a bed for six months, Dean," she argued. "I'm not going to lay around, drugged up, and waiting to die."

She lifted her hand and waved it towards the door. "Doc, go get me some sign out sheets or whatever it is I need to get out of here."

"I can understand why you would want to leave, but I'm obligated to encourage you to stay," he said, softly. "Without proper care, you…you won't last long."

"How long?" Sam asked.

"Two…maybe three months," the doctor answered. "Depending on what it is you choose to do with the time you have left."

Sam, Dean, and Bobby shared a hard look. They knew McKenna better than anyone. And they knew exactly what she planned to do with her time, which meant that she'd easily be dead within a week.

Bobby wheeled himself closer to McKenna's bed and attempted to take her hand. "Kenna, sweetheart—"

"Don't try sweet talking me out of this, Bobby," she grunted, and pulled her hand from his firm grasp. "Doc, I want out of here."

The doctor stood to his feet, and slowly made his way toward the door. He paused for a moment, and looked back, clearly hoping that she'd change her mind.

McKenna glared at him. "_Now_."

Without another word, he quickly took off to gather the proper paperwork.

Dean pushed himself off the wall, and bravely stepped toward McKenna's bed. The doctor may have been afraid of her, but Dean certainly wasn't.

He paused.

_ Well…maybe a little bit. _

"So, it's a suicide mission, then, huh?" Dean began, his voice and body language completely condescending in every way possible. "You're going to head out there and try to gank your last two demons, all the while slowly dying of advanced stages of cancer."

Sam and Bobby glared at him, but Dean only ignored them.

"Did I leave anything out?" he added, smugly.

McKenna's chin trembled, but thanks to years of practice, she quickly steeled her emotions. Instead, she did what she did best, and chose the road of anger.

"This is my decision, Dean," she hissed. "It's my life, and I get to choose what I do with what little time I have left. I _have_ to find those demons. It's all I have left to live for. It's my job."

"That's not why you're doing it, Kenna, and you know it," Dean argued. "Yes, I know how important killing those demons is to you. Really, I get it. But deep down, you're doing it for another reason."

Sam and Bobby remained silent, but they were both involved in the argument just as much as McKenna and Dean were.

"Deep down, you're hoping that you die on the job, because you can't stand the idea of letting this cancer kill you," Dean continued. "You're too proud a person to allow that to happen. So, no, you'd rather die a hunter's death and go out in a blaze of glory. Well, I for one am not going to allow it."

He finished his speech and McKenna couldn't help but smile.

Dean should have known better. He should have known that his words would mean nothing more to her than a direct challenge. She pushed the covers aside, and let her feet dangle a few inches above the floor below.

"Kenna…" Dean warned, and lifted his finger to point at her.

Her toe hovered over the floor, swinging back and forth, silently teasing him with the power she held.

"Don't do it," he cautioned again. "Don't you dare touch that floor."

She smiled and her toe instantly made contact with the linoleum, simply because he'd told her no. Sam and Bobby did their best to stifle their laughter, but they both failed miserably.

McKenna reached a hand out to Sam, and against his better judgment, helped her up out of bed. She wobbled on her feet, and had to hold onto Sam for a moment, but was eventually able to stand on her own.

Like watching Bambi learn how to walk, the three men watched her make her way towards the bathroom, proudly pulling her IV stand with her. She looked over her shoulder at them, and smiled smugly as she took her jeans down from the hook on the back of the door.

McKenna then attempted to step into them, but she grew dizzy, lost her balance, and nearly fell forward. Sam and Dean instantly came running. One brother helped her stand, while the other pulled her jeans on and buttoned them for her.

Dean struggled with the button at her waist and Sam chuckled. "You having problems down there, Dean?"

"He's probably only used to taking a girl's pants _off_," Bobby laughed, wryly. "But he ain't too good at putting 'em _on_."

Dean glared over his shoulder at Bobby, and finally managed to finish his task. He straightened his back, and leaned closer to McKenna.

"You can't even dress yourself, Kenna," he said, tenderly. "How are you going to go out there and kill those demons?"

McKenna shrugged helplessly and hesitantly turned her back, allowing Sam to untie the strings of her hospital gown for her. When that was finished, she held the material to her chest and slipped into the bathroom without another word, locking the door behind her.

Dean turned to Sam and Bobby, lifting his arms in unbelief. So far, neither one of them had been able to find a way to reverse her illness. They had spent hours pouring over books, and surfing the internet. They had called Cas, and even made a quick pit stop at a crossroads.

Nothing had worked.

Dean dropped his head forward, pinched the bridge of his nose between his callused fingers, and let out a weary sigh.

"What the hell do we do now?"


	26. Chapter 26

Two days later, Dean was carrying a near unconscious McKenna to the Impala and tenderly placing her in the back seat.

About an hour earlier, the trio of young hunters had arrived in a small town in the next state over. McKenna had found evidence of one of her demons there, and only managed to convince Sam and Dean to take her because it was just three hours away from Bobby's house.

Not to mention the hospital.

They had found and trapped the demon quickly, and McKenna had even managed to start her special exorcism, but it was only a matter of minutes before she was too week, too dizzy to even stand.

The demon had laughed in her face, and even reached out to tangle its fingers through her hair before Dean finally rushed forward and pulled her to safety. He lifted her up into his arms as Sam continued the ritual on his own, chanting over and over until the demon spewed itself from the host's body.

Now there was only one demon left…

Dean hiked McKenna's head up until it rested on his shoulder. He walked out of the building, crossed the parking lot, and placed her in the backseat. McKenna stretched out and turned over onto her side, doing her best to avoid any eye contact with Dean.

He slipped off his leather jacket and tenderly draped it over her shivering torso.

McKenna felt the leather near her feet give as Dean sat down on the backseat beside her. He placed a gentle, comforting hand on her calf and brushed his thumb along the denim.

"You see why I didn't want you to do this?" he questioned, softly.

McKenna didn't answer. She simply nodded her head, wiped a falling tear from her cheek, and snuggled deeper beneath Dean's jacket.

He patted her leg one last time and climbed out of the backseat. Sam slowly made his way across the parking lot and joined his brother, just as Dean was shutting the back door.

"Is the guy okay?" he asked.

"He's unconscious, but alive," Sam answered. "I called an ambulance and they're on their way, so we better head out soon."

He jerked his chin at the backseat. "How's she doing?"

Dean shook his head. "Not too good. Come on, we'll head back to Bobby's."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

When they returned home, McKenna hobbled into her room and found Dean emptying her dresser draws and shoving everything she owned into a nearby duffel bag.

"Dean!" she shrieked. "What the crap do you think you're doing?"

She reached forward and began to shove her clothes back into the drawers, though they only stayed there for a few seconds before Dean took them back out again. They continued their back and forth with the clothing for a long time until McKenna collapsed to the mattress, too tired to keep going.

"Dean, what are you doing?" McKenna asked again.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm packing," he answered, tossing one last shirt into the duffel bag. "You're going to the hospital."

McKenna sat up on the bed and gawked at Dean. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm taking you to the hospital, and that's final." Dean glanced at McKenna out of the corner of his eye, half-waiting to see if she was going to punch him again.

"There's nothing they can do for me there, Dean," McKenna said, softly. "You heard the doctor."

"They can at least make you live longer."

"Lying in a hospital bed for six months? Doesn't sound like much of a life to me, Dean."

She had him there. And she was right, too. If it were him, Dean would gladly give up three out of six months if it meant he could spend them out of bed. He looked at the huge pile of clothes in front of him and chuckled.

"You know, Sam told me not to do this," he began. "He said you'd fight me every step of the way and that I shouldn't even bother, but…I figured I'd give it a shot."

McKenna smiled softly, knowing that his heart was in the right place.

Dean sat down next to her and traced his fingers over the back of her hand. He looked up at her and quickly noticed how different she looked. It had been only four days since they'd found out about her illness, but her appearance was already beginning to suffer.

Her eyes had dark circles under them. Her hair was slowly beginning to thin. Her skin was pale. And her clothes were already beginning to hang a little looser.

"What?" McKenna chuckled nervously, finally realizing that Dean was just staring at her.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "You just…you look pretty."

It wasn't a lie. Not really, anyway. To Dean, Kenna always looked pretty.

McKenna almost smiled, but then she saw the look in his eyes. It was different then how he normally looked at her.

It was something…she couldn't allow to continue.

"Hey, I think I'm going to lay down for a while," she whispered and gently pulled her hand out from under his.

Dean took the hint and reluctantly stood up to shove the huge mass of clothes onto the hardwood below. He pulled back the sheets and helped McKenna beneath the covers. Against his better judgment, he tucked her in and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Then, he left her alone.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Later that night, Sam slipped out of his bedroom as quietly as he could, careful not to wake Dean. He passed McKenna's doorway on his way to the bathroom, and simply out of habit, stuck his head in to check on her…

Kenna's bed was empty and completely made up.

Sitting on top of her pillow was a folded piece of paper with his Sam's name on it. He carefully stepped forward and opened it.

It was a note.

_Dear Sam, _

_By the time you read this I'll be long gone, and I'm sorry for walking out so late at night like this, but there was no other way I could actually go through with it. You have become the closest thing to a brother I've ever had, and I'm more grateful for that than you'll ever know. The time I've spent with you is probably the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. You, Dean, and Bobby have become like family to me. And while I never planned that, I'm so very glad that it happened. And, I couldn't have gotten these last few demons without your help. _

_Please, don't look for me, Sam. If you do, I'll only go deeper. For now, I don't want to be found. When I'm ready, I'll contact you, but not a moment sooner. You and Dean were fine before I came along, maybe even better off, so you'll be fine without me, too. _

_Don't show Dean and Bobby this letter, Sam. I'm taking the Shelby so they shouldn't think that someone else has taken me or anything. Just let them know I'm gone, and leave it at that. I'll do everything I can to take care of myself. I promise. _

_I'm so sorry, for this. I really am. But, it's truly for the best. Take care of Bobby and Dean. Take care of yourself, too. I'll miss you, Sam. _

_All my love, _

_McKenna _

_P.S. Please tell Dean I'm sorry._

Sam brushed a tear from his cheek and finally tore his eyes away from the letter. He read it again, and again, and then one more time. But no matter how many times he read it, it still said the same thing. Kenna was gone.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

**-Please review…Thank you!**


	27. Chapter 27

McKenna rolled over onto her back, taking a long moment to relish in the pillow-soft mattress beneath her. She stretched her stiff muscles, flexed her fingers and let them brush across the downy floral duvet cover above. She had driven all night from South Dakota, only stopping once for gas, food and to use the facilities.

She reached Connecticut two hours before sunrise, knowing that a special room would be waiting for her no matter what time she arrived.

The big, beautiful 16-room Luticia Bay Bed and Breakfast had been home to her once before. It had been for only one night and it had been over two years ago, but for some reason she had never forgotten it.

Its beautiful Victorian architecture. The huge weeping willows that seemed to smile in greeting as you walked up the front path. The bay windows' lovely Oceanside views, where every morning, steam would rise up off the bay.

McKenna smiled at the sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and took in a deep breath. Her lungs burned at the effort, but it wouldn't stop her from breathing. If she did, she'd miss out on the pleasing aroma wafting up the stairs.

Breakfast.

She closed her eyes and smiled.

_Oh, breakfast…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam gave McKenna six whole hours on the road before he finally woke Dean up at nine. His brother sprang up in bed, and somehow, without even hearing one word, he knew that something was wrong.

"Where's Kenna?" he demanded.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, man. She left."

It wasn't a complete lie. Not really, anyway.

Sam didn't know where McKenna was, but he did know that she had taken off, probably as far as she could possibly get. Sam clenched his note from Kenna in his fist and carefully slid it into his pocket.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought entered his head.

_Tell Dean I'm sorry…_

Sam stood to his feet and roughly punched his brother, right in the face.

"Dude!" Dean groaned, rubbing his now aching jaw. "What the hell? Why do people keep hitting me?"

"What did you do?" Sam demanded.

"I didn't do anything. _You_ hit _me_!"

"No, what did you do to make Kenna leave? Did you hit on her or something?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Yes, normally that was something he would do, but Kenna was different. He would never, _ever_ hit on her.

"I didn't do anything, Sam," Dean argued. "I wouldn't hit on her like that." His voice went quiet, almost shy. "You know that I think she's…different."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, deciding that his brother was officially a moron. He couldn't say that he had real, substantial feelings for her, no. He could only say that he thought she was "different".

"You are such an idiot," Sam mumbled and shoved his fist into Dean's shoulder for a second time. "Let's go get breakfast."

Dean climbed out of bed and proceeded to pull on his jeans. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Get dressed. We'll get breakfast on the road."

"Where are we going?"

"To find Kenna," Dean answered, quickly.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and sat down on Dean's bed. "Dude, she left. She took the Shelby, and left. Which probably means that she doesn't want to be found."

"You sound like you've already tried to find her," Dean accused.

Sam nodded. "I've called her phone. It's been disconnected."

"Did you call the cell phone company and have them track it?"

"Yeah, and it's here at the house somewhere. She probably tossed it in the woods on her way out."

Dean collapsed to the bed, letting his body drop down beside Sam.

"I can't believe this," he sighed. "I just don't get it. I mean, why would she do this?"

Sam scoffed. "Why would she do this? Maybe because she's been through a whole hell of a lot lately, and she needed a break? Maybe because she didn't was to spend the next three months with you breathing down her neck?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dean, you were riding her for the tiniest little things," Sam fought. "Hell, you'd yell at her if she walked to fast, or went up the stairs too quickly!"

"I was only trying to look out for her," Dean offered. "I just wanted her to be safe."

Sam smiled. Simply because he couldn't help it.

"I wanna go get her," Dean pouted.

"I know you do," Sam agreed. "But if we go running after her when she obviously doesn't want us to, she's only going to take off again. And then we'll really lose her."

Dean stood up from the bed, knowing his brother was right, and chucked a balled-up pair of socks at Sam's face. He caught them in mid air and threw them back, hitting Dean square in the back of his head.

"Lucky shot," he called over his shoulder. "Let's go get breakfast."

Sam waited until he heard Dean reach the bottom of the stairs, and pulled out Kenna's not from his pocket. He read the words again, silently hoping that they would tell him something different. But, they didn't, and they never, ever would.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

Not only was Kenna running around out there all alone, but she was doing it with murderous, life-sucking cancer. That, and Sam was keeping yet another big secret from his brother by not telling him about the note.

It was official: things couldn't possibly get any worse.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

But for McKenna, they certainly could.

Going after a low rank demon that may, or may not have information about her last remaining demon while having debilitating cancer, definitely wasn't her finest hour. She had barely been able to trap the demon, much less spend the most harrowing hour of her life questioning it.

In the end, the demon and its info proved to be useless and she performed a quick exorcism to send it back to hell.

Now she was back at the Bed and Breakfast, weakly trying to get past the elderly woman at the front desk without her asking too many questions. But apparently, McKenna's acting skills were lacking.

"Ms. Stevenson?"

McKenna's hand gripped the banister at the bottom of the stairs until her knuckles were white. The simple pressure took more strength than she'd planned, sending stars to burst behind her eyelids. She turned back to face the woman, a fake grin already prepared.

The movement made her woozy and she dropped, her knees hitting the bottom step and knocking air from her lungs.

"Ms. Stevenson!" the woman cried and rushed forward to help her stand.

"I'm all right, Mindy," McKenna mumbled, hoping she got the kind woman's name right. "Just a little dizzy, that's all."

"You're a very sick girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" Mindy questioned, softly.

McKenna only nodded, still unable to actually say the words out loud.

"Do I need to call an ambulance?" Mindy questioned, already standing up to reach for the front desk phone.

"No," McKenna answered, quickly. "No, I'll be all right. Just help me up to my room, please."

Mindy stared at the phone for a moment, knowing she should go with her first instinct in calling for help, but ultimately did as she'd been asked.

McKenna smiled up at the woman as she helped her upstairs and grinned profusely when she even tucked her into bed. After one last failed argument about calling for a doctor, Mindy left the room, but not without promising McKenna a cup of hot tea later.

Moonlight reflected off the bay outside McKenna's window and streamed into the dark room as the waves lulled her to sleep…

_McKenna…_

The familiar sound of her name instantly woke her from her sound sleep. A full cup of tea that was now too cold to drink rested on a lap table at the foot of the bed, near her feet. McKenna attempted to lift her head, but quickly realized that she was too weak to do so.

A shadow in the corner of the room caught her eye and she moved to grab the dagger beneath her pillow. Even that ordinarily simple movement was too much for her body to handle.

"You don't need your weapon," the voice whispered. "I will not hurt you."

McKenna smiled, despite how weak she was feeling.

"Castiel," she chuckled, dryly. "Oh, how I've missed you."

The angel stepped forward and frowned. "I will never understand human sarcasm," he stated, shaking his head.

McKenna chuckled, weakly, suddenly noticing how soft and feeble her voice sounded. She tried to lift her head again, and still couldn't manage it. Something was happening. Something bad.

Even with all her years of hunting, and being left broken, battered, and exhausted, she had never felt this zapped before. Her eyelids grew heavy, her breathing ragged.

She rolled her head to the right and stared up at Castiel. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

The angel nodded his head. "Yes. But it is because of _your_ will…not God's."

"Oh, what is wrong with you people?" she groaned. "Why can't you just let someone die?"

"Death does not depend on your choice," Castiel stated. "It's a choice that only God can make."

"I have cancer, Castiel," McKenna moaned. "_Cancer_. It's everywhere, and it's bad, and I got it from an old friend of yours."

"Zechariah is no friend," Castiel argued. "And he does not act on orders from heaven. He did this to you based on his own agenda, and unfortunately, there's nothing I can do."

"Then why are you here?" McKenna's voice rang out through the room, louder than she'd meant it to, but was thankful to get her point across.

Castiel moved towards McKenna's bedside until the top of his thigh rested against the tall mattress. He placed a steady hand over McKenna's forearm and stared deeply into her eyes.

"Tomorrow morning your doctor in South Dakota will call Bobby to tell him that he's found a treatment that might work for you," the angel began. "The doctor will say that it's an experimental program from Europe, but that it's beginning to make its mark here, in this country. In just a few moments you will call Sam and tell him where you are, and to come get you."

McKenna opened her mouth, but Castiel completely cut her off.

"You are too weak to drive, yourself," he said softly. "And you know it."

McKenna nodded. "What are they going to do?" she asked, regarding the treatment, itself.

"It's administered intravenously," the angel explained. "It will burn inside your veins, and make you feel very sick. And I'm sorry to say that you will feel far worse before you begin to feel better."

McKenna nodded again as a steady stream of tears slid down her cheeks. For once, she didn't even try to stop them.

"Why do I always get the raw end of the deal?" she whimpered, suddenly.

Castiel was often like an innocent child, but at the moment, he knew exactly what McKenna was talking about.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I cannot answer why God allows bad things to happen to those who do not deserve it, but I do know that no matter what, He has a righteous plan for them."

"So, I'm part of some big cosmic plan?" McKenna asked. "One that _doesn't_ involve me dying of cancer?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, simply, and with a flutter of wings and whoosh of air, he was gone.

McKenna let out a heavy sigh, and weakly reached for her new cell phone. She didn't even allow herself to worry about the fallout from her disappearance when she returned home. Or whether or not Dean and Bobby would be mad at her. At the moment, none of that mattered.

She lifted the phone to her ear, and despite the late hour, Sam answered after only one ring. Deep down, she felt like a scared runaway calling her family. And in a way, she was.

"Sam," she whimpered. "It's Kenna…can you come get me?"


	28. Chapter 28

Dean had never driven so fast in his entire life, and even managed to reach Connecticut in only five hours. Sam joked that he should have called Guinness before they left, just so they could see what was surely a record-breaking trip. Normally, Dean would have laughed, but this time it simply wasn't funny.

He crumpled McKenna's note to Sam in his fist and tossed it over his shoulder, into the back seat.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about that, Sam," Dean growled. "You should have showed it to me right away."

Sam gazed out the window, unable to make eye contact with his brother. "You read the note, Dean. She specifically told me not to."

"She's freakin' dying of cancer, and it's all our fault!" Dean roared. "I don't care what her note said. You should have told me!"

Sam slinked down into his seat, pouting like scolded child.

Deep down, he knew that Dean was right, but at the same time, he felt that McKenna deserved some time away. Of course, he wished that she had said something first, but there was nothing that could be done about it now.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, and hoped that they reached Kenna in time.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna pulled a blanket tighter around her shoulders, and sipped hot tea from the cup in her hand. She gazed out over the bay and took in every sight and sound, knowing that this was probably the last time she would ever see such beauty. The small fishing boats were coming into the dock, as seagulls swooped down to grab what they hoped might be the day's best catch.

McKenna closed her eyes, rocking back and forth in the comfortable rocking chair, and breathed, enjoying the feel of oxygen entering and exiting her lungs. She placed her left hand on her chest, over her heart and felt it beating.

It was the most beautiful feeling in the whole world.

A loud rumble reached McKenna's ears and she opened her eyes. She knew the sound like the back of her hand.

In her head, she counted to ten. Sam and Dean found her on the back porch of the Bed and Breakfast before she even reached eight.

McKenna held up a weak hand, stopping whatever words that might have come tumbling out.

"Please, don't yell at me," she said, her voice trembling. "I was wrong to leave. I'm sorry, and I'm ready to go back."

She paused and finally looked up at her fellow hunters. "Can you both just keep your judgment and opinions to yourself, and take me home, please?"

Sam and Dean shared a hard look, both of them wanting to scold her just a bit. But based on her body language and facial expression alone, she had already punished herself enough.

"I'll go get your stuff together," Sam whispered, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, gently brushing it along her skin as he walked away.

A tear slid down McKenna's cheek as Dean knelt down to level.

"Bobby called about an hour ago," Dean said. "He said he heard from your doctor this morning."

"Yeah," McKenna sniffled. "I know."

Dean stared at her for a moment and McKenna almost smiled.

"Let's just say I had some angelic intervention last night," she chuckled. "And he persuaded me to call you."

"Uh, oh," Dean groaned. "Please tell me it was Cas and not Zechariah."

McKenna nodded with a smile. "Cas."

Dean looked at her, stared at her for a long time. He gazed into her eyes, and couldn't look away, even if he tried. She didn't look good, but somehow, she had never looked more beautiful. It felt like she had been gone for years, and he had missed her so very much. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many words he wanted to say, but now just wasn't the time.

Right now he had to get her back to South Dakota, and fast.

"Bobby said something about a special treatment?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's right." McKenna agreed. "And I've decided to do it."

Dean tilted his head back and smiled. "Thank God."

McKenna slowly leaned forward, and placed a trembling hand on Dean's bent knee. Her eyes met his and held their gaze.

"Dean, listen to me," she began. "Castiel told me about it, and this treatment is going to be horrible. He said it's going to get a heck of a lot worse before it starts to get better. I…don't know if I can do it."

Dean almost smiled. He felt like he was witnessing something utterly historical. Never in his life, had he ever though that he would hear Kenna admit to being afraid. But somehow, it made her appear more human, and even more beautiful.

"This treatment's going to tear me up," Kenna whispered. "It could kill my body."

"But just think," Dean suggested. "If the treatment's doing all that to _you_, then it must be doing the same thing to the cancer."

McKenna cocked her head. She hadn't thought of it like that before, but it was true. If the medicine was kicking her butt, then it must be doing the same thing to the cancer, too. For now, it was a comforting thought.

"Dean, I'm going to need some help with this," Kenna whispered, tearfully. "I can't…I can't do this alone."

Dean didn't say another word. In fact, he didn't need to. Instead, he just pulled her suddenly slimmer body close to his, and held her until it was time to go home.

**-So sorry this is so short, but it's all I had time for today. I hope you are all still enjoying this. Plenty more to come! Please review…thank you!**


	29. Chapter 29

Dean glanced back in the rearview mirror, checking to make sure that Sam and the Shelby were still close behind. Dean almost chuckled as he thought back to how his little brother had teased him about driving Kenna's car before him, but he stifled the noise, afraid to wake the sleeping young woman in the car with him.

McKenna had fought sleep for the first hour of the trip but finally managed to succumb to it about twenty minutes earlier. Dean noticed her shivering while she slept, and turned up the heat a little more. He was staring to sweat, but Dean was willing to sacrifice his personal comfort if it meant bringing Kenna a little bit of comfort.

He slid his right arm along the back of the seat until he reached her shoulder, and gently tipped her to the left. Her body subconsciously took the hint and snuggled into his chest on her own. After that, he reached into the back seat, found his leather jacket, and placed it around her torso.

At last, her shivering finally ceased.

Dean looked down at her and worry lines formed along the top of his brow. He didn't like how she had described the treatment she was preparing to go through. He didn't like the words Castiel had used to explain it.

Words like _painful_ and _burning_. And how she would feel worse before she felt better.

Dean had been watching her since they'd first found out about the cancer, and he couldn't imagine her possibly feeling any worse. He silently wished that he could take the pain from her, suck it out of her body, and absorb it into his own.

Better yet, he wished he could take a knife, cut out Zechariah's heart, and make him watch as it ceased to beat.

But for now, he'd just have to settle with having McKenna sleeping peacefully in his arms during the long drive ahead.

And that suited Dean just fine.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Bobby was waiting for them when the trio arrived at the hospital a few hours later. He immediately reached out and held McKenna's hand as she, too was placed in a wheelchair and taken upstairs to the nearest open room. Without any fight whatsoever, Kenna climbed into bed and didn't even flinch as an IV needle was inserted into the back of her hand.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby looked on, watching with broken hearts as she willingly accepted the doctor's constant poking and prodding. She didn't move, not once. She didn't even try to lighten the mood by making a cute joke or sarcastic remark.

Kenna only lay there, completely drained of her usual life and energy. For a moment she glanced over at each of them, offering a gaze that simply said: "I just want this to be over with."

Unable to take anymore, Bobby squeezed her hand, kissed her cheek and wheeled himself out of the room. Sam pushed his way through the mass of nurses surrounding Kenna's bed, and sat down next to her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and took her hand.

"I'm gonna go stay with Bobby, okay?" he whispered. "Maybe I can talk him into spending some time in the chapel with me for a while."

McKenna smiled softly and nodded. "Thanks, Sammy."

Kenna had never called him that before, and while Sam normally didn't like anyone else but Dean calling him "Sammy", hearing it from her felt just as right.

He smiled at her, his chin trembling, and placed another kiss on her forehead.

"You better be cured by the time I get back here," he warned. "Or else you'll have to answer to me."

If she wasn't so tired, McKenna would've laughed, but at the moment, she just couldn't manage it.

Sam stood to his feet, gently squeezed Kenna's hand one last time, and patted Dean's shoulder on his way out.

Dean stepped forward and took Sam's place on Kenna's bed, immediately taking her hand in his. And without even hesitating, he carefully threaded their fingers together for the first time. McKenna stared down at their joined hands for a moment, a look of complete awe covering her face. Before she could comment on it, the doctor came in wheeling a new IV stand with him.

This one had a bag of thick, amber colored fluid hanging from its hook.

"Is that it?" she asked, her voice raw and soft.

The doctor nodded as he proceeded to hook her up, first to a bag of regular saline, then to the magic treatment bag. Once again, Kenna wished she could just disappear, or even better yet, she wished she had disobeyed Castiel and never called Sam and Dean to come get her.

If only I hadn't listened…I'd be gone by now and I wouldn't have to do this…

"Is it too late to change my mind, Doc?" she asked, suddenly.

The doctor looked down at her and smiled, almost as if he thought she was joking. Little did he know, that she really wasn't.

But deep down, she knew it was too late.

She was already here and the ugly fluid in the bag above her head was not only her last chance, but possibly her saving grace, as well.

"This isn't going to be easy, McKenna," the doctor said, somberly. "I wish it was, but once we start this treatment, you're going to feel like you've gone to hell."

"That's okay," McKenna whispered, stealing a knowing glance at Dean. "I've been there before."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Less than an hour later, Kenna was wishing she could take it all back.

Castiel had been right about everything. The thick liquid felt like fire as it pumped through her thin veins, and her whole body screamed in agony. She spent most of the time with her head in a bucket, completely unable to keep anything down. Even now, when her stomach was finally empty, the constant heaving wouldn't end.

Her three favorite men stayed with her the whole time.

Dean held back her hair and rubbed her back in what he hoped was soothing circles, never once too afraid to face her sickness, head on.

Sam sat in the corner, eyes closed, and lips constantly moving in silent prayer.

Bobby stayed by her side, his wrinkled hand resting on her knee, offering what little comfort he could while she continued to lurch forward.

The doctor made regular stops by her room, each time repeating how sorry he was, and that he wished she didn't have to go through this. But his words brought McKenna and her adopted family no comfort whatsoever.

Two hours into the treatment, McKenna finally collapsed back into the pillows, weakly begging her three companions to just do her the favor of ending her life. Sam, Dean, and Bobby laughed it off, but they all knew that she was vaguely serious.

Hour three finally allowed Kenna a few minutes of sleep, but she eventually woke up again, her face immediately hovering over her bucket.

After another hour, she finally seemed to relax a bit, but she continued to spasm and tremble uncontrollably, her body keeping time with the speedy clicking of the saline fluid flowing into her arm. The IV machine had a hard time keeping up with her body's ever increasing dehydration, and she wanted nothing more than to rip it out of her arm and run away forever.

Sam and Bobby eventually managed to fall asleep, Bobby in his chair, and Sam on a cot in the corner of the room. Dean would often close his eyes for a moment, but they would instantly snap back open again at McKenna's slightest move.

He sat up and pressed a cool, moist cloth to her head, whispering soft words of encouragement close to her ear.

An unexpected gust of wind suddenly blew through the small room, accompanied with a flutter of wings. McKenna and Dean looked up as Castiel sadly gazed down at them.

"Cas," Kenna whimpered. "Please..."

The angel didn't need to hear another word. He knew a direct cry for comfort when he heard one. Summoning every last bit of weakened heavenly strength within him, Castiel sealed his first two fingers together and gently pressed the tips of them to McKenna's forehead. Her eyes slowly fluttered, blinked, and finally closed, an expression of sheer relaxation painted over her face.

Dean let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Cas."

"I didn't come just for that," the angel whispered. "I've heard some whispers recently. About McKenna."

Despite being utterly exhausted, Dean stood to his feet and ushered Castiel out into the hallway, careful not to wake his three sleeping companions.

"What is it?" he asked, once they were out of the room. "Is it about her cancer?"

"No," Castiel answered. "It's about her last remaining demon."

"Well, what is it?"

"He's here, Dean," the angel whispered. "He's in this hospital as we speak."

**-I wish I was one of those awesome people that do the Supernatural montage/music videos on youtube, because if I could, I'd totally do one for the "McKenna during treatment" scene. And if I could pick a song for it, I think it'd be Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Tuesday's Gone." Especially the instrumental part of the song. :)**

**Anyway, you know that reviews are always greatly appreciated, as well as needed. Thank you!**


	30. Chapter 30

Sam and Dean sat huddled together in the hospital cafeteria over McKenna's laptop and her large stack of books and papers. After Castiel left, the brothers had spent the whole night going over every bit of Kenna's research. As far as they could tell, Cas had been right.

The demon was here, in the hospital.

Sam had been at it for almost four hours, but Dean had since laid his down on the table and even managed to nod off for a little while. Finally, Sam found something of substance.

"Dean, wake up," Sam demanded with a rough nudge. "Dean!"

His brother lifted his head with a snort and rubbed his eyes, vehemently denying that he'd actually been asleep in the first place. "All right, yeah. Whatcha got?"

"Take a look at this," Sam said, pointing to the screen. "This guy has a long, dark background. He's been arrested over seventeen times for kidnapping, rape, and child abuse. And he escaped from jail and disappeared off the radar shortly before Kenna was taken to the Compound."

"Okay, Sammy, that's disgusting and horrible," Dean said. "But what does that have to do with anything? Why are you acting like you're surprised about any of this?"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned the screen towards Dean.

"In our experience, Dean, hosts usually have squeaky clean rap sheets before, and after a possession," he argued. "This dude's been a freak since he tortured his first cat at six years old."

"You've officially lost me, Sam," Dean sighed.

"Dean, don't you get it, yet?" Sam asked, his tone growing more frustrated with every word he spoke.

Dean shook his head.

"I think this dude's just an evil son of a bitch, Dean," Sam growled. "I don't think he's ever been possessed by a demon at all."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

When the brothers entered McKenna's hospital, she lifted her head from the pillow a bit, and even managed a small smile. Apparently, Castiel's magic nap had done her a lot of good.

"Hey, guys," she whispered, weakly.  
"I've missed that pretty smile, Kenna," Dean grinned and tenderly ran his hand through her hair. Sam chuckled knowingly at their close proximity as he stretched out on the bed, laptop in hand, next to Kenna.

For a moment, Dean almost looked jealous. Sam simply grinned.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

McKenna let out a tired, weary sigh, but her little smile never ceased. "I don't know what Castiel did, but I think I like it."

Sam and Dean joined in her smile, but theirs quickly disappeared.

"We have some news," Dean began, slowly. "After Cas helped you last night, he told me something pretty important."

McKenna nodded, signaling that she was listening, but it was quite obvious that she still fighting exhaustion.

Dean paused and bit his lip, deciding the best way to handle the situation was to be direct.

"Your last demon," he began. "He's here."

Kenna's eyes snapped open and stared straight into his. "What? What do you mean? Have you seen him?"

"Not yet, but we think you have," Sam said, gently turning the laptop so McKenna could see the screen. "Do you know him?"

She stared at the screen for a long time and tears began to gather in her half-mast eyes. When she finally spoke, it was nothing but a tiny whisper. "Brother Cole."

"Who was he?" Dean asked, gently brushing his fingers across the back of her trembling hand.

"He was pretty much the ring leader of the whole bunch," McKenna explained. "He called the shots and told the others what to do. He was…" she stopped, and shivered. "He was the worst one of all."

Sam gently squeezed her knee and redirected her attention at the screen. "Do you notice anything strange about the picture?"

Kenna squinted and took a closer look. It was a mug shot and it was taken…

"This was taken two years before I was even at the Compound," she said. "And it says that he was arrested for rape. Had he been a meat suit for _that_ long?'

"That's just it, Kenna," Sam began. "He's never been a demon. He's just a regular guy."

"You mean he…" she whimpered, her voice trembling. "He's just a human man?"

Sam and Dean nodded, both of them unsure about what to say.

"And he's here?" she asked, her weak voice hitching with a sudden onslaught of tears. "In this hospital?"

"We asked around a little bit this morning," Dean answered. "And there's a man fitting his description in a room on the third floor. He's in real bad shape, Kenna. He's…he's in a coma."

McKenna remained silent for a long moment, her gaze trailing off, out the window. She wished she could go outside and feel the sun on her face for a while. She wished that Bobby hadn't gone home to rest and shower. She wished he were here to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right.

But more than anything she wished that she had never set foot on that cursed Compound.

"I want to see him," McKenna suddenly said, unable to believe that the words were actually coming out of her mouth.

"Kenna, no. You don't—"

"No, Sam," she argued. "I have to see him." She paused, and looked at Dean. "I need to see him, Dean."

Dean took a deep breath and knew that there was no fighting her on this. He had no choice but to let her do what she wanted. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

McKenna nodded.

"All right," Dean conceded. "I'll go get you a wheelchair."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean carefully wheeled McKenna upstairs, bringing all of her tubes, wires, and IV bags with them. She also held an empty bucket in her lap at Dean's assistance.

"Just in case," he'd said.

They reached room 407 and paused just outside the door. Knowing Kenna was unable to do so, Dean peeked in through the window in the door.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"He's alone," Dean answered. "The nurses said that no one's ever come to visit to him and that he has no family." He paused and shrugged. "He's nothing but a body in a bed, babe."

McKenna tried to ignore the endearment, but couldn't have stopped the blush rising in up in her cheeks if her very life depended on it.

"It doesn't matter," she said, finally. "He's not a demon so I can't kill him and send him back to hell. But he's lying here, stuck in the middle of life and death…I don't know if I can imagine a worse hell than that."

Dean closed his eyes, completely unsure of what to say next. Her whole adult life had depended on killing the demons that made her life a living hell, and now that she couldn't complete that mission, he wasn't sure what to say to her.

He knelt down to his knees, placing his hand overtop of hers. "So…what do you want to do now?" he asked.

McKenna let out a heavy sigh, and actually managed an ironic smile. "You know…I don't know."

A few tears slipped past her eyelids, and Dean reached up to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs. "What can I do?" he asked.

"You can wheel me in there," she answered without even a second thought.

"What?"

"I'm serious, Dean. I want to…talk to him."

Dean leaned forward and gently rested his forehead against hers. He stared into her eyes for a moment, but Kenna eventually looked away, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze.

Dean had never wanted to kiss a woman so bad in his entire life, but given their current situation, it just wasn't the right time.

And more than that, he could tell that McKenna wasn't quite ready.

_At least not yet, anyway. _

Against his better judgment, Dean finally wheeled Kenna into the room, and pushed her up close to the man's bed.

"His real name is David Cole Lansford," Dean began. "He's fifty-eight years old and was born and raised in Sioux Falls, South Dakota…" Dean's voice droned on, continuing to tell her every bit of information that he and Sam had found about him. Most of the description made him feel nauseas, and he had to stop and force himself to breathe more than once.

McKenna remained silent the entire time, and for a moment, Dean wondered if she had fallen asleep.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah," she said, finally. "Would you mind if I had a few minutes alone please, Dean?"

He wanted to stop her, make her change her mind, and wheel her back downstairs, but he knew that there was nothing he could do. When her mind was made up, it was truly made up.

Dean leaned down, squeezed her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and made his way out the door. But nothing on earth could stop him from peeking in through the window in the door again.

For a long time, McKenna just sat there, completely immobile in her wheelchair prison, but eventually she weakly shifted in the chair and tipped her body forward. Dean looked on as she fell to her knees, as years of pent up tears suddenly broke free. The most heartbreaking, tormenting sound that Dean had ever heard emptied itself from Kenna's lips, and he thought twice about leaving her alone.

But Dean knew that this had nothing to do with him. It was only about McKenna and the broken little girl within her that had suffered so much, and been forced to grow up too quickly.

Dean eventually forced himself to turn away and leave McKenna to grieve alone. He headed back downstairs to wait until she was ready to lean on his shoulder again.

**-We've got some really good stuff coming soon! Please review...thank you!**


	31. Chapter 31

McKenna had long since exhausted her body's supply of tears and eventually pulled herself up from the floor and back into her wheelchair. For a long time she simply sat there and looked at the man before her.

The man that had once provided her with a home, albeit a sick and torturous one, but a home nonetheless. He was the same man that had later found his own home within her, amidst her waking dreams and evening nightmares. Her daily life and every moment within it, was spent thinking about him.

And what he had done to her.

Her only sweet dreams had been filled with images of her finding and torturing him, listening to him beg for mercy and forgiveness. But never once would she give it, never once would she let up in inflicting pain upon him. She would laugh in his face, ask him if it hurt, ask him if he liked it. And he would have no choice but to say that he loved it, relished in it, and wanted more.

He would repeat the very words that she had been forced to say, over and over and over, again. He would cry out in agony, even scream to the heavens for clemency, but heaven wouldn't answer.

Heaven would completely ignore him.

McKenna released her weary head forward and stared down at the aging man's hand. It was still, stagnant, and held no life. Part of her wanted him to wake up. Part of her actually wanted him to be a demon, but…he was only a man.

Only a human that she simply couldn't kill, no matter how badly she wanted to.

She wanted to make him suffer, not just for herself, but for all the other girls he'd hurt during his sad and meaningless life. But as far as she could tell, he was suffering enough.

Heaven refused to accept him, and hell had turned its back on him. He was unwanted, unloved, and nothing more than a prisoner within a worthless body. Stuck in the same place, completely immobile for as long as his life support kept ticking. Going nowhere and feeling nothing.

But McKenna hoped that he was feeling something.

_Pain._

Hopefully a little bit, just enough to keep him awake…and keep him screaming.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Later, back in her room, McKenna was beginning to realize that Castiel's magical touch from the night before was clearly temporary. Every single ounce of discomfort she'd felt earlier was coming back. And this time it brought reinforcements.

Every muscle, bone, and fiber of her being cried out in agony. Even her soul seemed to ache.

She laid on her back, tossed this way and that, turned onto her stomach and twisted her body in every way she could muster, but the pain never ceased. She couldn't find any comfort or rest in any position, and soon gave up trying.

Her nausea returned, but her stomach was empty, so all she had was a continuing onslaught of dry heaves.

A barrage of nurses came in and out of the room offering her a long list of drugs that had the power to combat her current symptoms, but each one came with an even longer list of new symptoms with them.

"I'm so screwed," she whispered painfully. "I'm just plain and simple screwed."

"Is that really what you think?" Sam asked, as quietly entered the room and sat down on her bed.

"That's how I feel," McKenna answered, and scooted over to make room for her friend. She leaned against him and gently laid her aching head on his shoulder. Sam shifted and placed his arm around Kenna and pulled her close, hoping it would bring her a little bit of comfort.

"I can't kill him, Sam," she murmured into his chest, her hand fisting into the front of his shirt. "He was my last one. My last connection to…everything. And I can't even kill the guy."

Sam let out a heavy sigh and gently ran his fingers through her hair. "I know, and I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Kenna."

"What do I do now?" she asked, sniffling. "This was all I had, Sam. And now that it's over…I have nothing left to live for."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is," she argued and looked up at the numerous IV bags hanging from the stand above her head. The amber colored bag, her current lifeline swung back and forth from its hook. More than ever, she wanted to rip it from the stand and toss it in the nearest trashcan.

"Sam, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Would you be mad at me if I changed my mind?" she asked. "Would Dean be mad? And Bobby?"

"Changed your mind about what?"

Kenna glanced up at the bags again, watching as they both swung like the pendulums they were, controlling her life, and whatever time she had left. She didn't need to say anything. Sam knew exactly what she meant.

"Kenna, please, no…"

"I can't do this anymore, Sam," she cried, softly. "I just can't do it anymore."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean slowly made his way down the hall, unable to hide the smile on his face from the bouquet of maroon lilies in his hand. Favorite flowers were one of the only things that he and McKenna had never talked about, so all he had to go by was what he did know about her. And what he knew told him that she was anything but a typical pink roses kind of girl.

He looked up and stepped out of the way as a nurse wheeled an IV stand down the hallway. Hanging from one of the hooks was a familiar, amber colored bag.

"No," he said as realization dawned. "No, no, no…"

Dean took off down the hall, nearly dropping the lilies as he went. He reached Kenna's door as quickly as he could, and launched himself inside the room. A nurse was standing at Kenna's bedside, carefully unwrapping a blood pressure cuff from her arm. The IV stand next to her only held a bag of saline fluid. The amber colored bag was gone.

Dean jerked his chin at the stand. "What's going on?" he demanded, his tone quite a bit harsher than he'd meant it to be.

The nurse smiled sweetly, patted McKenna's shoulder, and quickly headed toward the door, obviously hoping to leave the room, and the rising tension within it, behind.

"Those are pretty," McKenna said, regarding the flowers in Dean's hand. "Are they for me?"

Dean nodded and silently stepped forward to place them in her lap. McKenna gently touched the pretty petals and smiled.

"Thank you, Dean. They're beautiful," she whispered, and even tugged him down to kiss his cheek. As hard it was to do so, Dean ignored the gesture.

"Where's the medicine, Kenna?" he asked, softly.

"I'll see if a nurse can get me a vase to put these in," she said, completely ignoring Dean's question.

"Where's the medicine, Kenna?" he asked again.

"I'll need some water too."

"Where is the medicine, Kenna?" Dean screamed it this time, and McKenna finally regarded the question.

"It's gone, Dean," she answered, simply.

"What do you mean, it's gone? Did the doctor say to do that?"

"No, I did."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I told the doctor to take me off the medicine, Dean," McKenna explained, slowly. "I told him that I was done with it and that I'd just take my chances out there."

Dean ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "So that's it?" he asked. "You're just giving up?"

"Call it what you want, but I don't have a choice, Dean," she hissed, and placed the lilies on the nightstand. "I just can't do this anymore."

"Look, I know the medicine made you uncomfortable, but—"

"Uncomfortable?" McKenna screeched. "Uncomfortable is a sprained ankle or a toothache, Dean. _This_ was even worse than how Castiel described it. _This_ is more than I'm able to handle."

"So, what are you saying?" Dean asked. "You're saying you don't think you're strong enough to get through this? Because you're wrong, Kenna. You've been through _so_ much worse. And you're the strongest woman I know."

"I'm not, Dean," she argued, as tears began to pour down her cheeks. She reached up and pounded a finger into her chest as she spoke. "I'm not strong enough. I can't feel like this any longer. That medicine is _killing_ me. But then, again, so is the cancer, so I'm screwed either way."

"Kenna, I told you, Sam and I will find a way out of this—"

"You tried, Dean," she cried. "I know you tried and nothing worked."

She tugged him forward, cupped his face in her hands, and forced him to look at her.

"Look at me," she whispered, desperately. "Please, _please_, Dean…just let me go."

A tear slid down his cheek and he pulled away from her. He stood to his feet and turned his back, not only because he didn't want Kenna to see him cry, but also because he simply couldn't look at her anymore.

"You know, it's funny," she said, suddenly. "I've heard people say that cancer doesn't really hurt, that it's the treatments that cause the symptoms, and that you never really feel sick from the disease itself…but they're _liars_, Dean."

He turned back at the sound of his name, wiping away an onslaught of tears as he went.

"My whole body feels like it's on fire, from the inside out," McKenna continued. "My chest hurts, my stomach hurts, my head is _killing_ me. I can barely breathe without feeling like I might pass out. God, it even hurts when I freakin' _blink_."

Deep down, Dean knew that she wasn't exaggerating. He had known that it was bad, but his brain had quickly formed a protective cocoon around his thoughts of Kenna's health. His heart and soul understood how much pain she was in, and even sympathized for her, but his brain refused to even think about it.

Now, he wished he had.

"I haven't eaten anything in days, Dean," she said. "The only _food_ I have is what's coming from that stupid bag right there."

He followed her pointed finger and looked at the half empty bag of clear fluid. It was easily the saddest thing he'd ever seen.

"I already talked to the doctor," McKenna continued, slowly. "He's keeping me in for another night, and then tomorrow afternoon I'm free to go."

"You can barely _walk_ on you own," Dean grunted, roughly. "How do you expect to—"

"He's prescribing me some pills for…" she interrupted him and paused for a moment, her mouth suddenly going dry. "For the duration of my time. They're immunity boosters and they're supposed to help me soldier on."

"But you'll still be dying, Kenna," Dean argued. "Doesn't that scare you?"

McKenna leaned back against the pillows and turned away from him to stare out the window.

"I know where I'm going, Dean," she answered, softly. "The only thing that scares me is being there without you."

Dean didn't answer her. He only turned away and left the room.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Later that night, as McKenna lay in bed, a gust of wind and the sound of fluttering wings filled the room. She glanced over and saw the form of a man standing in the corner. "Cas?"

The figure silently moved towards her and held up two fingers.

It wasn't Castiel.

Before she had a chance to call for help, the figure pressed his fingertips to McKenna's forehead and everything went black.

**-Something BIG is coming…please review!**


	32. Chapter 32

McKenna squirmed in bed, arched her back, and reached her arms above her head in a big stretch. She was almost surprised when her IV didn't tug on her hand. And she was even more surprised when she didn't feel any pain.

In fact, she was…comfortable.  
Kenna's eyes snapped open. Her IV, uncomfortable bed, and complimentary barf bucket was gone. She wasn't in the hospital. She was in a beautiful bed, in a beautiful bedroom. The pretty floral design of the bedspread and matching curtains reminded her of the Bed and Breakfast in Connecticut.

Was that where she was? Could Sam and Dean have taken her back there without her knowing? Could she really have been sleeping that deeply?

No, it wasn't possible. There had to be something else going on.

She pushed the covers back and slowly got up out of bed. Her body felt no pain or even anything close to discomfort. The ugly hospital gown she'd been wearing was gone, replaced by her usual pajama choice of flannel pants and a tank top. She also noticed that her previously healthy figure and nice curves had returned.

For the first time, McKenna took a good, hard look at the room and immediately noticed a number of picture frames on one of the dressers. She stepped forward and looked closer. They were pictures of her. There was one of her rock climbing, kayaking, swimming, hiking, and lying on the hood of the Shelby, grinning like a fool.

In every one of them she was smiling.

In every one of them she was happy.

Suddenly, another picture caught her eye. In this one, she wasn't alone. It was a photo of her and Dean. He was obviously holding the camera and they were…kissing.

Straight, full, right on the lips kissing.

But surprisingly enough, that photo wasn't the most shocking one.

She picked up a fancy silver picture frame hiding behind it. It was a wedding photo. The groom was incredibly handsome in his tux, and the bride beside him wore a gorgeous white gown that flattered her beautifully. The couple looked completely and surprisingly perfect together.

The groom was Dean and the bride…was McKenna.

"Holy…freakin'…crap."

The frame slipped from Kenna's grasp, and fell to the hardwood floor below, breaking the glass inside.

"Babe?" a voice from the other side of the closed bedroom door called just before the familiar owner of it entered the room.

"Hey, you all right? I heard something break."

Dean's familiar green eyes went from McKenna's face to the broken frame on the floor, and back up to her face again. He took note of the tears in her eyes, and frowned.

"Babe, don't worry, it's just a frame," he chuckled. "We'll get a new one. It's not big deal. But he, go get some slippers on, or something. I don't want you to cut your feet on this glass." He stepped forward and placed a kiss on Kenna's nose. "I'll go get a broom."

McKenna staggered backwards until the back of her legs hit the tall mattress. She sat down on the bed and stared at the rest of the pictures. Her breath caught in her throat and she fought back a sudden onslaught of emotion.

Dean reentered the room, broom and dustpan in hand, and quickly swept up the broken glass. He looked up at Kenna and frowned. "Babe, what's wrong?"

McKenna didn't answer. She simply shook her head and didn't say a word.

Suddenly, Dean smiled, knowingly. "I know what you need. Stay right there."

He left the room again and seemed to walk across the hall to another room. McKenna could hear him speaking in a tone she'd never heard him use before. Within seconds he was back, but he wasn't alone.

"Here we go, sweetheart," he said, speaking more to the soft pink bundle in his arms then to the other woman in the room. "We need to make your Mama feel better."

For a moment, McKenna could have sworn that her heart stopped. Dean was standing before her, grinning and holding a newborn baby girl in his arms. Before she knew what was happening, she was standing up next to him, and gazing down into the face of a precious, sleeping baby. She squirmed and cooed a few times, but never seemed to really wake up.

She was absolutely beautiful. The picture of everything that McKenna had secretly always wanted, but never dreamed she'd have. Her hand went up and hovered over the baby's head, aching to touch her sweet, soft skin.

A soft smile formed upon her lips, but a trembling chin and tears that wanted to burst forth quickly accompanied it. Her hand immediately dropped from mid air without ever making contact with the baby.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be. The beautiful home, the gorgeous bedroom, the loving husband, and new baby. It couldn't belong to her. McKenna didn't deserve this. She wasn't good enough to have all this. She wasn't good enough for Dean or for the baby girl in his arms.

She slowly backed away, and ran out of the room, completely ignoring Dean when he called her name and asked where she was going. She ran down a flight of stairs, grabbed a coat from a hook on the wall and the nearest pair of car keys. She ran out the front door and down the steps. The Impala was parked in the driveway behind the Shelby, which forced her to take that car instead.

She had never driven Dean's car before, had never really been allowed to.

_Well, I am his wife._ She thought, crazily. _Why wouldn't I be allowed to drive his car now? _

McKenna climbed in, started the engine and peeled out of the driveway. The pretty neighborhood looked somewhat familiar and it helped her begin to place where she was located. That meant that Bobby wasn't too far away.

She would go there. Bobby would know exactly what to do. Bobby would be able to fix everything.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, McKenna stood outside Bobby's front door, banging on it with both fists and screaming his name. After what felt like hours, he finally opened the door and stared…_down_ at her.

He wasn't in his wheelchair anymore. He was standing on his own two feet, walking and looking fantastic.

"Bobby?" McKenna whimpered, weakly.

"Kenna? Sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, obviously searching for more vistitors "Where's Dean? Is Kyla okay?"

"Kyla?"

"Your daughter," he said and gently pulled her inside. "Oh, goodness, honey, you're shaking. Get in here."

"You're walking," she said, pointing to his legs.

"Yeah, of course I am," he answered and carefully led her into the kitchen where he sat her down at the table. "I have been for about two years now. You know that, honey. Hell, I walked you down the dang aisle at your wedding."

"My wedding," Kenna murmured, softly as she stared off into space. "That's right, I'm married. I'm married…to Dean."

"Kenna, sweetheart, you're really starting to scare me," Bobby said and slid his hand across the table to touch hers. "Why don't you let me call Dean and let him know where you are—"

"No!" she shouted, and grabbed at his hand. "No, Bobby, don't. Don't call Dean. Not yet, please. I just…I just need to talk. I need to figure this out."

She paused for a moment, shook her head in an effort to clear it, and a new wave of tears began to slide down her cheeks. Bobby grabbed a nearby box of tissues and carefully placed it front of her.

"Bobby, I think I'm going crazy," she sobbed. "Last night, I went to sleep in a hospital bed in Sioux Falls. I had a fight with Dean because I decided to stop the cancer treatment and--"

"Kenna, honey. That was two years ago," Bobby said. "Do you remember anything after that?"

"No," she answered. "No, I don't think so…wait. Yes. Yes, there was a man in my room. It was dark and I couldn't see him very well, but I know he was there. I think he touched me or something…"

"Zechariah," Bobby said, simply, finally giving her an answer that made a little sense. "He's done this to Dean before. He's picked him up and dropped him off in the future just to get a kick out of watching him squirm."

"So, that's what's happened, here?" Kenna screeched and jumped out of her chair. "I just got picked up by some crazy-ass angel and dumped here, two years later?"

"Kinda looks like it," Bobby answered. "And you sure have missed a lot, I'll tell you that right now."

"Hell, yes, I did!" she agreed. "I'm freakin' married to Dean and we have a child together!"

"That's all pretty recent, though, Kenna," Bobby said, soberly. "Believe me, you've missed a whole lot more."

"Like what?"

"Well…" Bobby shrugged. "The whole friggin' Apocalypse for starters."

McKenna looked down at Bobby and frowned. "I don't understand."

Bobby reached out and patted the seat of Kenna's chair.

"Pop a squat, honey. You're really gonna wanna be sittin' down for this story."

**-I had SO much fun writing this chapter, and there's more good stuff on the way. Please review. Lots of love!**


	33. Chapter 33

Bobby patted the empty seat again, silently persuading McKenna to sit back down. He knew better than anyone that she wouldn't be able to take the news he was about to tell her standing up. She finally sat down with a heavy sigh and placed her forehead on the table.

Without even bothering to ask her if she was ready or not, Bobby proceeded to just give it to her straight.

"Sam and Dean said yes."

McKenna's head snapped up and she stared at Bobby in complete and utter disbelief. "What?"

"Sam said yes to Lucifer," Bobby said. "And Dean said yes to Michael."

Kenna took in a deep breath and let it out on a shudder. She was rendered completely speechless. It couldn't be possible. She just couldn't even begin to imagine either one of them saying yes. There was nothing on earth that would ever force them to choose to…

Wait. Unless…

"Bobby, what made them say yes?" she asked when she was finally able to find her voice.

"Well, it's obviously not a coincidence that Zechariah sent you here when he did," Bobby began. "Because it all started the night you chose to stop the treatment. That night Zechariah came to Dean, while Lucifer went to Sam. And both angels offered them a deal. They'd both see to it that you were healed if their vessels finally said yes."

Kenna's head dropped back down to the table and the skin on her forehead stuck to the wood as she rolled it back and forth in defeat.

"So…" Bobby shrugged. "They both took the deal. You woke up an hour later and walked out of that hospital, cancer-free and better than ever. The doctor's had no choice but to write it off as a miracle."

Bobby paused and chuckled for a moment. "Hell, Harvard's still doing a study on your recovery right now, as we speak."

"They said yes?" McKenna asked, the words going straight into the table. "I can't believe they said yes."

"They did it for you," Bobby offered, but the words brought Kenna anything but comfort. She lifted her head and rested her chin in her hands.

"What happened after that?"

"You and I tried to keep track of 'em, but once those angels were in 'em, it was trying to catch a lightening bolt in a Mason jar. We just couldn't do it," Bobby explained. "They were all over the place and everywhere they went there'd be earthquakes, volcanoes, war, genocide, every bad thing you can think of."

McKenna shook her head and even thought of putting her hands over her ears, but she knew that wouldn't stop Bobby's words from being true.

"If something bad was going down, then it meant they were fighting," he continued. "It was the Apocalypse, Kenna. Live and in the flesh."

Suddenly, a thought entered McKenna's head. She was ashamed that she hadn't thought of it before.

"Bobby," she choked out. "Where's Sam?"

Bobby's head fell forward and he stared at the table for a long time. Eventually he stood to his feet and walked to the kitchen window. He looked out into the front yard and swallowed his emotion, forcing it deep down into his chest.

"Sam's gone, Kenna," he said, softly. "He was gone the minute he said yes to Lucifer."

"But so was Dean, right?" she asked, and stood up to join him. "When he said yes to Michael? I mean, from what the boys told me, the angels don't turn into them, _they_ turn into the angels. So, if Sam left and Lucifer took over, then that means the same thing happened to Dean."

"Yeah, that's right," Bobby agreed."

"Then why is Dean, "Dean" again?" she asked. "And why is Sam gone?"

Bobby finally turned away from the window and placed his hands up on Kenna's shoulders, tenderly running his palms along her biceps for a moment in a touch that he hoped would be comforting. He pursed his lips together and held in a breath for a long time.

"Kenna, listen. Dean…" Bobby stopped, shook his head, and corrected himself. "_Michael_… killed Lucifer."

McKenna's mouth fell open as her eyes welled up with tears. The back of her throat went dry and her lungs couldn't get enough air.

"Bobby, you don't mean…" she choked. "You don't mean that…Dean killed Sam?"

Bobby released his hold on her and turned his back, unable to look at her another moment. McKenna only saw the back of his head tilt down, once.

_Yes. _

Michael had defeated Lucifer. Dean and killed Sam.

"With Lucifer dead, the Apocalypse ended and the world is now at peace," Bobby said, softly. "Thanks to none other than Dean Winchester."

With her legs unable to hold her up any longer, McKenna sat back down, her mouth still hanging open in shock.

"After the final battle, Dean received his reward," Bobby continued. "Michael left him and gave him a gift on his way out. Knowing how much Dean loved his brother, and wouldn't be able to live with himself if he knew he'd killed him, Michael took every memory of Sam that Dean had."

Kenna's head snapped up. "You mean that Dean doesn't remember Sam at all?" she asked. "He doesn't remember hunting with him or anything like that?"

"Nope," Bobby answered, shaking his head. "He also doesn't remember a thing about John or Mary, or anything else having to do with the family, either. As far as he knows, he's been a successful classic car restorer since he was twenty."

"That's horrible," McKenna, whispered, her heart breaking for him.

"Not really. Kinda depends on how you look at it," Bobby disagreed. "There was another gift that Michael gave Dean. Something he was actually _allowed_ to remember."

Kenna's brow arched in silent question. Bobby answered with a single word and a nod in her direction.

"You."

McKenna almost smiled.

Almost.

"He remembered me?" she asked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"And he remembered me to a certain extent, too," Bobby added. "But only because of my previous relationship with you, and our shared interest in cars. He doesn't know a thing about me being a hunter."

"What about me?"

Bobby shook his head. "You quit hunting once you got out of the hospital and Dean didn't remember that part about you, anyway. And as far as I know, you've never brought it up."

Kenna shook her head in unbelief. It was all so hard to believe, but somehow, it made sense. The Winchesters were notorious for sacrificing themselves for the ones they cared about. Every single person in their family had done it, possibly thousands upon thousands of times.

Over the past couple hours Bobby had given her an unbelievable onslaught of information. It was completely unreal and she couldn't even begin to comprehend it all at once. Her lungs had quickly become nothing but leaky bellows and for a moment, she wished for a paper bag to assist her in breathing.

"Bobby, how did we…" McKenna began, but she found it hard to continue. "How did Dean and I end up together?"

The older man looked at her for a moment, his right eyebrow arched in a knowing glance.

"You're really somethin' else, Kenna," he smiled. "You mean you can't tell me that even in the time you just came from, that you haven't already thought about Dean in a more-than-friendly way?"

Kenna blushed and the pink color went all the way down her neck and onto the skin of her collarbone. She looked at the floor and couldn't help but smile.

"I don't _want_ to, Bobby," she argued, humorlessly. "But I'd be lying if I said I've never _thought_ about it. But, that's all it is. Just thoughts. They don't…they don't matter."

"Why not?" Bobby asked, and finally sat down at the table with her again. Kenna shoved her jaw out in a defensive expression and answered him with a question of her own.

"Does Dean remember anything about the Compound, Bobby?"

Bobby dropped his gaze to the table and nodded. "Surprisingly enough, the angel let him keep that, too."

It wasn't the answer that McKenna was expecting, but it was one she really wasn't surprised to hear. Dean had remembered her time in the Compound, he had seen her scars and the brand on her hip, and yet he…fell in love with her anyway.

He had married her and had a baby with her.

And it all happened because he had sacrificed his humanity so she could be healed and have life.

McKenna pressed her palms into the surface of the table and pushed herself up from her seat. She hugged Bobby as tight as she could and headed for the front door.

"Kenna?" he called. "Where you goin'?"

She turned back to look at Bobby and smiled.

"Home."

**-More to come in Zechariah's "alternate universe". I hope you're still enjoying this.**

**Please review!**


	34. Chapter 34

McKenna pulled into the driveway, turned off the Impala, and slowly climbed out from the driver's seat.

For the first time she truly noticed the house that she had come running out of earlier. It was a beautiful white farmhouse with black shutters and pretty pansies lining the walkway up to the red front door. Huge shady trees were speckled throughout the front yard and one had a tire swing hanging from one of its branches.

The nearest neighbors were far enough away to offer plenty of privacy, but just close enough to still be considered neighbors.

The style, architecture, and setting were every bit Kenna. She remembered the antique furniture and floral motif in the bedroom upstairs, and truly realized that it was her house. It was all her, and almost nothing of Dean. The only sign that he even lived here at all was the Impala sitting parked out front.

It all served as just another piece of growing evidence that proved just how much he'd sacrificed to be with her.

McKenna slowly made her way up the front steps, lovingly running her fingers along the railing as she stepped onto the porch. Her fist went up and hovered in front of the door for a moment before she finally realized that she didn't need to knock. After all, she lived here.

She was home.

McKenna took a deep breath, placed her hand on the doorknob and opened the door.

Inside the house was still, and just as pretty inside as it was out. She took off the coat she'd grabbed on her mad dash out and placed it back on the line of hooks behind the door. She smiled to herself. Even the hooks were antiques.

"There you are, babe. Thank God," Dean said as he made his way down the stairs. "Bobby just called and said you were on your way home. I was starting to get worried."

For a long time, Kenna didn't say anything. She simply stared in shock at Dean as he came down the stairs. Somehow, he looked different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, except that he just looked…different.

He quickly realized that she was staring at him, and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs in front of her. "You okay?" he asked and tenderly reached up to brush the hair away from her face.

A glint of light reflected off the silver wedding band on his left ring finger and McKenna caught his hand in mid air. She looked down at the ring and reverently traced her fingers over it.

"So…you really married me, huh?" she murmured, without thinking.

Dean continued to watch her hand move over his and chuckled. "We've been married fourteen months and you still have to ask?"

McKenna looked up and returned his smile, deciding to play along the best she could. "I'm just so lucky, you know," she shrugged. "I guess I just still don't believe it sometimes."

She somehow managed to release his hand and aimlessly made her way into what she figured was the living room. Dean followed close behind.

"I'm sorry I took off for so long this morning," she began. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just needed to talk to Bobby for a little while."

"That's all right," Dean shrugged. "I figured that's where you were going and I know you always come home, so I tried not to worry too much."

McKenna jerked slightly when she felt him step up behind her and brush her hair away from her left shoulder. Dean leaned in and nuzzled against the small patch of bare skin he found there.

"I'm glad you're home, though," he whispered, huskily.

Kenna closed her eyes against the unfamiliar touch and slowly pulled away, trying to think of a good excuse to refuse his advances.

"Dean," she chuckled, nervously. "It's the middle of the day…"

Thankfully, her simple statement seemed to be enough. Dean groaned and stomped his foot in playful frustration, but eventually left her alone.

"I know," he smiled and glanced at his watch. "And I've got to get to the garage anyway. I have to finish getting the Chevelle and 'Cuda ready for that auction next week."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll try not to be home too late this time, okay?"

McKenna nodded and affectionately took his hand as she walked him to the front door. He put on his leather coat and pulled her into his arms. She felt his lips against her hair, near her ear, whispering words she'd never heard anybody say to her before. "I'll be home soon, babe. I love you."

Dean pulled back and gazed into her eyes for a long, heated moment. Slowly, his eyes slid down to her lips.

Kenna panicked.

_Oh, no. Oh…no. _

Technically it wouldn't really be their first kiss. They were married and had probably kissed a thousand times, but Kenna didn't remember any of them. She couldn't allow their first real kiss to happen here, in a world that wasn't really real to begin with.

As quick as she could she pulled Dean back in for another hug and then released him, dodging whatever real kiss he might have been planning. She silently prayed that she wouldn't be here too much longer.

Here, she was his wife and a wife couldn't go on refusing her husband's kisses forever.

"All right, I'll be back in a little while," he said with a wink. "And don't forget. Kyla's started taking her evening bottle a little later the past couple days. I swear, babe, that girl's just as bad as her Mama at keeping me on my toes."

Kenna smiled and nodded at Dean, pretending that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Okay, have a good day, babe," she said, hoping the endearment would be acceptable.

He stopped, shook his head, and smiled. "_God_, I love you."

It worked. McKenna grinned.

Dean said goodbye one last time and finally left the house. Kenna turned around and looked up the stairs, realizing for the first time that she was in a strange house, all alone with a strange baby.

But the baby wasn't really strange. The baby was…hers.

"Boy, I'd love to see Rod Serling do a Twilight Zone about this one," she mumbled to herself, gripped the banister, and headed upstairs to see her baby.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna stood in the doorway of Kyla's nursery and took in every aspect of the pretty room. The style and design clearly matched the country décor of the rest of the house. There were plenty of pastel pinks and yellows with pretty bird designs stenciled on the walls. Pretty, sheer floral curtains moved slightly as a warm breeze brushed through the cracked window near the crib.

The baby squirmed and gurgled and Kenna rushed to close the window. Her breath caught at the sight of the baby, _her_ baby, lying asleep in the crib. She reached down and carefully pulled the soft blanket up to cover her.

McKenna had only meant to tuck Kyla in, but once her fingers skimmed the baby's soft chin, she couldn't help but want to pick her up, hold her forever, and never let go. Kenna leaned into the crib, lifted the sleeping baby, and carried her into the master bedroom across the hall. She climbed up onto the bed, leaned back against the pillows, and pulled her legs up in front of her to place the baby on her thighs.

The transition from her crib to her parents' room didn't bother or wake her up at all, and Kenna quickly decided that she and Dean had the best baby on the whole planet.

"Well, hey there, little one," McKenna whispered. "How are you? Huh? How are you? I'm your Mama, did you know that?"

Kenna stopped and rolled her eyes. "Well, of course _you_ know that, right? I didn't know that until this morning, but I know it now, don't I?"

She gazed out the window and closed her eyes for a moment of mourning.

"Oh, I wish you'd known your Uncle Sammy, baby girl. He sacrificed just as much as your Daddy did. And they did it all for us, didn't they? They both gave up their lives for me. They both thought they were doing the right thing, and they both lost their lives."

A tear slid down her cheek. "And Sam's was completely forgotten."

Kyla squirmed in Kenna's arms and she gazed down at her sleeping face.

"You know, it's funny, little girl. I don't even remember marrying your Daddy," she paused, leaned in, and whispered, "Much less _sleeping_ with him, but… here you are."

Kenna reached down and slid her finger down the front of Kyla's face, tapping her fingertip on her little nose. "A tiny baby girl. _Tiny_ baby girl with my nose—"

She stopped mid-sentence and gasped as Kyla finally opened her eyes. Staring back at her was a familiar pair of jewel green eyes.

"My nose," she whispered. "…And Dean's eyes."

Happy tears caressed their way down McKenna's cheeks as she leaned over and peppered kisses along her daughter's forehead. Laughter through tears was something she had never experienced before, but it was an emotion she could easily get used to.

"Oh, Kyla," she chuckled and pulled the little girl into her arms. "This is _so_ freakin' weird."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

A few hours later, Dean returned home.

The house was dark and quiet as he tiptoed his way up the stairs. He stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and watched as his wife and daughter slept. Unable to resist the temptation a second longer, he climbed up onto the bed and joined them.

He was often dirty with oil and grease when he came home, but McKenna never seemed to mind. And as far as he could tell, neither did Kyla.

He had an amazing wife and lovely daughter. True, he'd never known his parents and didn't have any siblings, but that never really mattered. He now had the family he'd always wanted. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't missed out on anything.

Though sometimes…he wondered.

Dean snuggled in behind his wife, reached an arm around her to touch his daughter, and slowly drifted off to sleep…

An hour later, McKenna opened her eyes and found Kyla still sleeping peacefully in her arms. A familiar hand was wrapped around her tiny form. Kenna glanced behind her and smiled at Dean's sleeping face.

A loving husband behind her, and gorgeous daughter before her. It just couldn't get any better than this. For the first time, she prayed that she'd never have to leave.

"All right, kiddo, time to go," a familiar voice called from the foot of the bed.

Kenna sprang up, gripping Kyla closer to her chest. "Zechariah."

"Yeah, that's me. It's time to go."

"What do you mean? Go where?"

"Back to where you came from," the angel said, simply. "You came, you saw, you learned the lesson you were meant to learn, and now the journey's over."

"What lesson? What are you talking about?"

Zechariah stood to his feet and opened his arms. "You learned that this is what _you_ can have if Dean says yes."

"So, that's it? You're using me?" McKenna asked. "You're hoping that I've enjoyed this enough to go back and encourage Dean to say yes to Michael, which in turn will make Sam say yes to Lucifer?"

Zechariah grinned and nodded his head.

"Well, you're wrong," Kenna whispered. "Yes, I'll admit I've enjoyed this. I've _loved_ it, actually. I have the life that I've always wanted, but never thought I deserved."

She glanced down at the baby in her arms and her chin began to tremble. "I have a beautiful daughter," she choked and looked back at Dean. "I have a wonderful husband that loves me. And Bobby can walk again."

"Sounds like you got the sweet end of the lollipop if you ask me," Zechariah shrugged.

"Yeah, I did. You're right," Kenna agreed. "But it's not worth it at _all_ if Sam isn't part of it, too."

Zechariah slammed his fist down on the nearby dresser, but the resulting noise didn't make Kenna's artificial family even flinch.

"You see that?" she asked, sneering. "They're not real."

"So they're not good enough?" the angel growled. "Because you're in a Sam-less world? All right, fine."

Zechariah snapped his fingers and Sam instantly appeared in the corner of the bedroom. His eyes blinked and landed on McKenna. "Kenna?"

"Sam?" she beamed, and tried to reach him, but Zechariah blocked her way and snapped his fingers again.

Sam disappeared.

"Sorry, kiddo," the angel shrugged. "You can't have it all."

"Fine," she sniffed. "Then I don't want any of it."

Zechariah's mouth hung open as he watched McKenna swing her legs over the side of the bed and place a still sleeping Kyla in her sleeping father's arm. She leaned down, rested her head on Dean's shoulder and lovingly caressed her daughter's head. Her lips ghosted over Dean's cheek and for a moment, the corners of his lips turned up in a tiny smile. Constant tears slid down her cheeks but McKenna showed no regret as she pulled away from her fake, but somehow real, little family.

She slowly stepped away from them and bravely made her way over to the angel.

"You can do whatever the hell you want to me," she growled. "You can do whatever the hell you want to Sam and Dean, but no matter what, I _will_ find a way to end up here, again."

She glanced at Dean and Kyla for a moment, before turning back, standing on her tiptoes, shoving a strong finger into Zechariah's chest.

"And you know what else? Sam will be here with us, too," she hissed and pushed her hair back away from her forehead, giving him easy access. "So go ahead. Do what you want, because I'm going to end up doing the same."

Zechariah actually took a step back from McKenna and stared down at her for a moment. He had never seen anyone with such fearless eyes. Right there, in that moment, he knew the ending of the story.

The angels and demons weren't going to win this fight. Neither was Michael or Lucifer. No, in the end there would only be one winner.

And that winner would be McKenna.

Zechariah hesitantly lifted his all-powerful finger and touched the center of her forehead.

**-Please review! Thank you! **

**LOTS of love...**


	35. Chapter 35

McKenna flexed her ankles and stretched the back of her stiff legs as she slowly opened her eyes. This time, the bed wasn't soft and the room wasn't pretty, but, it was pleasantly familiar.

She was back in the hospital, back in her bed, weak with cancer, and hooked up to IV fluids.

But Zechariah was nowhere to be seen.

Her first instinct was to spring out of bed, drop to her knees, and give thanks to the Good Lord above for bringing her back, but it felt as though that would've been in bad taste. But she immediately thought better of it when she finally took a good look around the room.

Bobby was asleep in the chair on the other side of the room. His empty wheelchair was waiting in the corner, but that didn't matter. He was here and that was enough.

Sam was passed out on the cot against the wall, lying on his stomach, fully clothed, and drooling on his own sleeve. To most women it probably wouldn't seem to be a very pretty sight, but to Kenna, Sam had never looked better.

Suddenly, a grip tightened on her left hand and McKenna followed the little squeeze with her eyes. A familiar hand was folded around hers and its fingers were threaded through her own. She glanced up and smiled at the hands' owner. His sleeping head hung forward and swung slightly to the right, against his shoulder.

"Dean," she whispered, careful not to wake Bobby and Sam.

He didn't move and for some reason, Kenna couldn't help but smile.

"Dean," she said again, and gently drew circles on the back of his hand with her fingers. She could easily remember a time when she hadn't wanted to even be _friends_ with Dean, much less anything…else.

Before she could stop herself, Kenna realized that she was actually giggling.

"It's too early in the morning to be laughing, woman," Dean finally whispered, shifting in the uncomfortable chair. He opened one eye and smiled softly.

"I thought you were mad at me," Kenna whispered, thinking back to the fight they'd had before Zechariah showed up.

"Nah," Dean shrugged. "It's kinda hard to stay mad at somebody as cute as you."

He was flirting with her. Dean Winchester was _flirting_ with her.

Kenna grinned.

"Oh, Good Lord. Why don't you two just a get room, already?" an old, grumpy voice called from the corner. Bobby pushed himself out of his seat and back into his wheelchair. He slowly wheeled himself to McKenna's bedside and tenderly patted her arm.

"You two lovebirds stay here," he teased. "I'm gonna go talk to the doctor and see when we can get you outta here."

Dean released McKenna's hand with a blush and Bobby laughed his way out of the room. The laughter brought Sam out of his nightly coma. He stood up stretched, and made his way to McKenna's bed.

"Sammy!" Kenna cried and pulled him down into her arms. She had never been happier to see him in her entire life.

The brothers stared at one another, each of them asking the same silent question.

_"What the hell?" _

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"So Sam and I said yes and we both wound up dead?" Dean asked after McKenna had explained her harrowing tale of It's a Wonderful Sam-less Life.

Of course, Dean's first reaction to her story had been, "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch angel if it's the last thing I do!"

"Sam was dead," Kenna clarified. "You were given a new lease on life."

"Without any memory of Sam, my parents, and hunting?" Dean scoffed. "That's not much of a life."

"But the world was at peace," Kenna offered. "And Bobby could walk."

"Well, at least that's something," Dean conceded. "And where were you during all this, by the way?"

McKenna's eyes grew large. She had been hoping that he wouldn't ask that. At the moment, she and Dean were alone. Sam and Bobby had left to bring back some clothes for her, but that wasn't making the moment any less awkward.

"I was around," she shrugged. "Apparently Bobby and I tried to keep tabs on you while Michael was riding you around, but it was pretty hard to do."

"But what about while you were there? And I wasn't Michael anymore?" Dean pushed. "What were we all doing then?"

Kenna took a deep breath. She didn't want to tell him, but she knew Dean. She knew that he would never stop pushing until he heard the truth. And maybe…he deserved to know.

"You and I were…" she stopped, cleared her throat, and looked away. "We were together."

"Together?" Dean frowned.

"We were…umm…married."

Dean's reaction was nothing like what Kenna had expected. He simply sat back in his chair, lowered his gaze to the floor, and smiled.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"What's all this?" Kenna asked as her doctor placed a round, cloth bag on the bed in front of her. She reached out and untied the strings. The bag unrolled and lay flat, showcasing a long line of pockets, each of them filled with syringes and spare needles.

"This is what's going to keep you alive," he said. "For as long…as we can."

"I thought you said you had pills for me to take."

"This is the exact same medicine you'd take had I decided to give you pills," the doctor explained. "But the vaccines will get it into your system faster and they'll also last longer."

He sat down on the bed with her and pulled out the first day's kit. "Here, I'm going to teach you how to do this."

"You mean I have to shoot myself up with this stuff?" she screeched.

"Yes," the doctor nodded. "Everyday. And since I know you won't be resting as much as I'd like you to, I'll also be teaching you how to do your own IV for when you get dehydrated."

"So what, all this stuff is my very own To Go Hospital?" Kenna joked.

"That's a good way of looking at it," the doctor agreed as he stood up. "Stay here. I'm going to go bring your family in here so they know how to do this, too."

McKenna smiled to herself.

_Her family. _

She really liked the sound of that.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Kenna slowly pushed herself up, out of bed and carefully stood to her feet. Her body swayed for a moment and Sam's big hand shot out to steady her. "You okay?"

She nodded and he gently released his grip. Very slowly, McKenna made her way around the room, keeping her hand out to steady herself with every step she took.

"I swear, it's like watching Bambi learn how to walk," Dean chuckled and received a hardy swat to the gut as McKenna waddled by. She kept on going and with every lap around the room, felt better and stronger than ever.

Always one to break the rules, she completely disregarded the hospital's policy of leaving in a wheelchair, and walked out the front door on her own two feet.

"I haven't used these things in a while," she said, flexing her toes on the asphalt, beneath. " I didn't realize how much I'd missed them."

Bobby leaned up, kissed her cheek, and climbed into his van.

"Allrighty, kids," he said, and started up the engine. "I'll see you at home."

The trio waved and Sam rushed around to the passenger side of the Impala to open the door for McKenna. Before she could join him, Dean stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. He squeezed his car keys in the other hand for a moment and bit his lip between his teeth.

He slowly held out his hand to her, allowing the keys to dangle before her.

"You wanna drive?"

McKenna's jaw slacked and she stared at the metal keys for a long time. "Are you sure?"

Dean shrugged. "You let me drive _your_ baby."

Kenna looked up at him through big, shiny eyes for a moment before gingerly reaching out and taking the keys from his hand. She stood up on her toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and quickly climbed behind the wheel.

She glanced back at Dean through the rear view window and grinned.

McKenna was really starting to like this 'family' thing.

**-Still more to come! Lots of love and please REVIEW!**


	36. Chapter 36

"Does that hurt?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How about that?"

"Yes! You're shoving a big needle into my arm, Sam," Kenna growled. "Of course, it freakin' hurts."

"I think you're just being a baby," Sam teased, impatiently tapping his foot against Bobby's front porch floor.

"All right, how about I ram it into _your_ arm and see how _you_ like it?" she countered.

Sam pressed the plunger down, shooting the liquid into her veins. Kenna inhaled sharply through her teeth, hissing her displeasure at the sting. This medication wasn't quite as thick as what she'd been hooked up to at the hospital, but it was still heavy and moved slowly through her system, spreading a dull ache through her entire body. This treatment wasn't as harsh on her as the one she'd been on earlier, but it did just enough to keep her going.

She only wished she knew for how long.

Sam removed the needle from under her skin and taped down a cotton ball on the slightly bleeding puncture mark. She winced and he leaned down to place a condescending kiss to the cotton ball.

"There. All better," Sam smiled, stood to his feet, and went inside to dispose of the used syringe.

"Butcher!" Kenna called over her shoulder.

Sam chuckled and shook his head at Dean as they passed each other in the doorway.

"Hey, lady," Dean teased. "Did the big, bad Sam hurt give you a big, bad shot? You want me to kiss it and make it all better?" He leaned forward, close to her face, far away from where Sam had administered her shot.

The man was flirting with her _again_.

Kenna looked up at him, and had to fight the urge to smack him when he leaned even closer and winked at her.

"Don't you dare get sweet with me, Dean Winchester," she warned, and leaned back, away from him. "I know exactly what you're up to."

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Sam talking to Bobby earlier," she answered. "You two are leaving to go on a hunt tonight…and you're going without me."

"Damn straight, we're going without you," Dean agreed and angrily stood to his feet. "I know you said this new medicine is making you feel a little better, but I don't care, Kenna. You're still sick and I won't be held responsible if something happened to you."

"You're being mean," she pouted.

"No, I'm being smart."

"Mean."

"Smart."

"Me—"

"I'm not fighting with you!" Dean finally shouted, effectively ending their argument. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if you came along and something happened to you."

He stepped closer and dug his finger into his chest for emphasis. "_I_ can't lose you."

His gaze dropped to the floor and his mouth clamped up. Apparently, he hadn't meant to say all of that. Kenna couldn't help but smile.

Now it was her chance to suck up.

"You know, you wouldn't lose me if you just let me come along for the ride," she began.

"Kenna," Dean warned and he held up a finger, but she would not be silenced.

"I could hang out at the hotel," she continued. "Keep watch at base camp, do research for you and Sam…" she had run out things to do quicker than she planned.

"I could take naps!" she added, quickly, just to get on Dean's good side.

"You could do all that from here," he offered. "And you'll only be a phone call away."

Kenna stomped her foot and whined like a child. "I don't wanna stay here! I wanna go with you and Sam. I'm not dead yet, Dean, so stop treating me like I'm already buried!"

For a moment, it looked like she almost had him. Dean dropped his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was his classic I'm Thinking stance. But then he ran the same hand up, over his head, through his hair and slammed it on the porch railing.

"No," he said, pointing an unwavering finger in her face as he marched back inside. "You're _not_ coming and that's final."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

But it wasn't final. Far from it, actually.

An hour later, when Sam and Dean were carrying their duffel bags to the Impala, they noticed someone sitting in the backseat, holding a fully packed bag in her lap. Dean opened his fist and let his duffel fall to the porch floor. He rushed down the stairs and yanked the car door open. He leaned down and glared at the woman inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone calm and cool. A sure sign that he had to really force his inner anger to stay down. But his compulsory kindness wasn't fooling her, and she was already on the defensive.

"I'm coming with you, Dean," McKenna stated, gritting her teeth.

"No, you're not," Dean argued, his soft, quiet tone remaining that way. "Get out of the car, please."

Sam picked up Dean's discarded duffel and placed it in the trunk with his own. He then went around to the passenger side and placed, what he hoped was a calming hand on his brother's back.

"Dean, please don't—"

Stay out of this, Sammy," Dean barked over his shoulder, his calm officially broken. Sam instantly removed his hand and Dean stuck his head back into the Impala. "Kenna, get out of the car!"

"No."

"_Now_."

"The only way I'm getting out of this car is if you drag me, kicking and screaming!"

"Fine!" Dean shrieked and began to reach into the backseat. He grabbed her knees and pulled her across the leather, trying to jerk her out of the car with ever ounce of strength he had.

"No, Dean, let me go!" Kenna screamed and clawed her fingers into the seat, pulling herself back into the car, fighting against each tug that Dean made against her other end.

It was a game of McKenna Tug-o-War, and so far, no one was winning.

"Sam!" she screeched, begging the other brother for help. "Sam!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted and rushed around to the other side of the car, figuring that it made more sense to go to Kenna's side and aid her, instead of trying to stop his brother from ripping her legs off.

Then again, maybe he should have thought better of that.

"Dean, stop it! That's enough!" he screamed and yanked open Kenna's door, planning to pull her out, himself. "Kenna, come here. Dean, stop! Stop it!"

McKenna hadn't been kidding about the kicking and screaming, and one of her feet finally collided with Dean's shoulder, sending him flying back onto the porch steps. The humiliating scene didn't change his argument.

"You're not coming," he growled, pushing himself up from the steps. "You're staying here! You're staying here, and you're staying safe!"

"I will be safe, Dean," Kenna agreed, still seated in the backseat. She began pulling items from her duffel bag and laid them out on the leather. "Look, I have all my treatment kits and my IV equipment. I have all my vitamins and everything else the doctor gave me."

She shifted in the middle of the seat, making sure that Sam could see it too. "See, Sam, I have everything I need. And you'll be there, too. You can help me make sure that I take my meds when I'm supposed to."

Kenna's gaze shifted back and forth, from one side of the car to the other, passing her heartrending facial expression from one brother to the other.

"Please, you guys?" she begged, piteously. "I _lost_ my last demon, guys, but I still want to help people. I need to help people. And I can't imagine a better way to spend the time I have left."

She looked to Sam, first. "Sam. Please?"

The younger Winchester brother didn't answer. He simply slammed the door shut, paced around to the passenger's side of the Impala, and climbed in. Words weren't needed. Sam had clearly voiced his opinion without them: McKenna was coming.

"Dean?" Kenna pleaded, softly.

He didn't answer either. Instead he turned his back on her and walked back into the house. McKenna climbed out of the car and took off after him.

"Dean, wait," she called. He ignored her and made his way into the kitchen. His hand shot out, opened the refrigerator door, and pulled out a beer. McKenna reached up and pulled it away before the bottle even touched his lips.

"No," she whispered, gently. "If you drink, I'll have to drive."

"You're not coming," he grunted and tried to swipe his beer back. Kenna blocked his move with her hand. She ignored his growl, calmly walked to the sink and poured the liquid down the sink.

"Hey, that's perfectly good beer you wasting!" Dean shouted.

"There's more in the fridge," she offered. "There's always more, even though you drink too much."

"I don't drink too much," he argued.

Kenna glared at him.

"Okay, so I tend to want a beer when I'm upset," he shrugged.

Kenna glared again.

"Or four," he conceded, softly. "Sometimes five."

"So you worry about me and it drives you to drink?" she teased. "Well, I'm offering you a solution, here, Dean. If I'm with you, you won't worry as much."

Dean took a deep breath and collapsed into a chair by the kitchen table. His head fell forward and he stared at the floor, unable to look up at Kenna.

"I'm not gonna win this one, am I?" he asked. She smiled and crouched down on the floor in front of him. She hooked a finger under Dean's chin and forced his gaze up.

"Why do you _have_ to come?" he questioned, his eyes suddenly shiny. "Why?"

Kenna smiled and let out a heavy sigh. "Isn't this what you did, Dean? Before you went to Hell? You drove yourself crazy trying to save as many people as you possibly could."

"You're not going to Hell, Kenna."

"No, probably not," she agreed. "But I'm still on borrowed time. And I want to save as many people as I can before I…go."

Dean was ashamed of himself. He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought that McKenna was feeling the same way he had his last year before going to hell. Only Kenna didn't have a year. For all they knew, she might not even have a month. Even the doctor hadn't given them a straight answer as to how much time she might have left, so really, no one knew. It could be tomorrow.

It could be today.

Dean slowly fixed his gaze on her face, taking in every line, every angle, every little thing that told him that she was still here, still alive, still breathing. Kenna smiled softly, her lips turning up on either corner. Dean leaned his forehead forward, allowing it to rest against hers. Kenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Never in her entire life had she ever actually wanted a man to kiss her…and she didn't want to start now.

"Dean," she whispered and his hands moved up to linger on either side of her face. His thumbs slid along her cheeks and Kenna's eyes slowly closed.

"Dean," she breathed again. "Sam's waiting."

Dean opened his eyes and gazed into hers for a long, heated moment. She was…scared.

And why wouldn't she be? She'd been through hell as a child. If she never wanted him to come near her again, he really couldn't blame her.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, and finally released her. "We should get going."

"We?" she asked. "You mean, I can come?"

Dean stood to his feet, and gently pulled her up with him. "Research, remember?" he said. "You promised to do research. That's it."

Kenna pouted for a moment, but quickly turned her frown upside down. "Research," she promised, and held up her right hand. "I swear."

Dean smiled, leaned down, and gently kissed her forehead. "All right, then. Go say goodbye to Bobby and let's hit the road."


	37. Chapter 37

Dean had been driving many of the same highways that McKenna had taken herself over the years, but she had never really noticed them. Never really took the time to take in the sights and sounds before. Of course right now the only sounds to be heard were "Shoot To Thrill" by AC/DC blaring out of the Impala's speakers, but even that was okay.

It was one of Kenna's favorite songs, but right now, given her new 'I'm Dying Soon, But I'm Not Exactly Sure When' mentality, Brian Johnson's legendary screeching had never sounded more beautiful.

Minutes later, Dean pulled off the main drag and onto a long, paved, tree lined driveway that seemed to wind on for miles.

"Where are we?" Kenna asked, leaning up to rest her chin on the back of Sam and Dean's seat. "Is our hotel back here?"

"No," Sam smiled, suppressing a chuckle. "Our bed and breakfast is back here."

Dean glanced back at her through the rearview window and winked.

A slow smile spread across Kenna's face. She reached up and squeezed Sam and Dean's shoulders. "Thanks, guys."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

An hour later, McKenna was alone in her room impatiently waiting for Sam and Dean to return from their hunt. Neither one of them said a word about what they were doing or where they would be, which didn't even leave her with the blessing of doing research for them.

She understood their reasoning, though. Because no matter what the case was, whether it was vampires, ghosts, demons, shape shifters, it really wouldn't have mattered. She would've wanted to go. And they both knew it, too. So not only had they left her behind, but they'd also left her completely out of the loop.

She stared out the window, enjoying the view of the small fish pond below, and realized that she had no music, no TV, no research…

She had absolutely nothing to do.

"Actually, you have quite a lot to do," a familiar voice suddenly stated.

Kenna turned from the window and found herself staring at the sight of a familiar angel sitting at the end of her bed.

"Cas," she chuckled, softly. "So, here you are. You know, I could've used your help back a couple days ago when I was Zechariah's chew toy."

"I heard about the time you spent with him," Castiel nodded. "And the lessons you learned while you were there."

"Oh, that's great," Kenna scoffed. "So now you're sticking up for that crazy freak. Thanks a lot. And to think, I thought you were on our side."

"I _am_ on your side," Castiel agreed and stood to his feet. "That's why I'm here."

Kenna frowned and shrugged her shoulders in silent question.

"A few minutes ago you were thinking that you had nothing to do," the angel explained. "But you have plenty to do. You have a great purpose, McKenna. Right now, Sam and Dean are in the middle of a battle. Sam has been taken and Dean is alone. He's hurt."

Kenna's eyes grew wide and she felt her heart beat quicken. She instinctively glanced around the room, searching for keys, but quickly remembered that she didn't have the Shelby and the Impala was gone.

"Well, what do I do, Cas?" she cried. "I have to get to them!"

"I will get you there," he stated, simply.

"Oh, yeah. That's funny, Cas," Kenna scoffed. "And just when did you learn to drive a car, huh?"

The angel lifted two fingers and pressed them to her forehead.

"I don't drive."

**-I'm SO very sorry that this is so short, but it's all I had the chance to do today. More to come soon! Love you all and please REVIEW!**


	38. Chapter 38

When Castiel had said that Sam and Dean were in the middle of a battle, he wasn't kidding. What he hadn't said was that he wouldn't be joining her in the midst of that battle.

In less than two seconds, McKenna found herself alone in the middle of a war zone that was once the small town they had driven through earlier. The quaint little Main Street was all but completely destroyed. The shops were burning, cars overturned, bodies of the dead strewn about, and the road was nothing but rubble.

Off in the distance, Kenna could hear sirens and people screaming, but she was just one person and there was nothing she could do. For a long moment, she stood there in the middle of the debris, unable to move, unable to even blink. Her chin trembled as her hand went up to cover her mouth. She felt a few tears slip past her lashes and slide down her cheeks.

Sam and Dean had only been gone for an hour or so. How could all this have…?

_Sam and Dean. _

That's why Castiel had brought her here in the first place. She had to find them. She had to save them.

The revelation brought Kenna out of her shocked stupor and she finally managed to force her legs to move. She climbed over the mountains of rubble, pushing past the upturned cars, and trying to stay away from the burning buildings.

"Sam!" she screamed, needing to be heard over the raging sirens and roaring flames. "Dean!"

She turned a corner and spotted the Impala. Except for one cracked window, Dean's beloved car was completely intact. Kenna ran towards it, calling for Sam and Dean with every step she took. She opened the doors, checked the floor, but neither one of them were there. After that she opened the trunk. Nothing.

But just to be safe, she loaded herself down with as much supplies, weapons, and ammunition that she could comfortably carry. She didn't know what she was going to run into, but there was no such thing as being too safe.

Against her better judgment, McKenna began to turn her back on the Impala, deciding that it was more important to find the boys. She just prayed that the car would still be all right after she found them.

"Stay here, sweetheart," she whispered, touching the black metal with her fingers. "Just…don't blow up or anything, okay? Your dad would kill me."

Kenna squeezed the handgun within her fingers as she slowly continued on through the wreckage, her mind reeling as she tried to figure out what on earth could have done this in such a short amount of time. But she didn't get the chance to come up with a solution.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a bruised, bloody hand sticking out from the ashes a few feet away. McKenna holstered her weapon and ran towards the appendage. She began pulling at huge chunks of pavement, thankful that her weak body was suddenly energized with a good amount of adrenaline. She continued to dig, continued to dislodge wood and rubble from the dusty mound, hoping against hope that she'd find someone alive.

Suddenly, the finger moved.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered. "Hold on. Just hold on. I'm coming."

"Kenna?" the voice was soft, hoarse, but clearly discernable.

"Dean?" she shrieked, and with renewed energy was able to pull away the rest of the debris to finally reveal the hunter beneath. "Oh, thank You, God."

"You can thank Him later," Dean coughed, dispelling a tiny piece of chipped tooth. "Get me out of here first."

Kenna did as she was told and continued to draw away more of the broken pavement until Dean was completely uncovered. Her breath caught in her throat when she finally laid eyes on him. He was an absolute mess. He had at least three good-sized gashes along his hairline, each of them bleeding more than she'd like. His bottom lip was swollen, and his knees were scraped to ribbons.

But what worried her the most was the giant shard of glass sticking straight out of chest. From what she could tell it hadn't hit anything major, but was just stuck in his muscle.

"Dean, we gotta get you out of here so I can fix you up," she said. "If I help you, do you think you can try to walk?"

Dean groaned and rolled his head back against the rubble behind him, but nodded his head yes. Kenna reached down, wrapped her left arm around his waist, and placed his right arm over her shoulders. With every ounce of strength within her, she lifted him up until he was standing on his feet, leaning most of his weight into her side.

Dean's hand drowsily went up to the piece of glass in his chest as the couple began to walk forward.

"Don't touch it," Kenna snapped at him. "If you take it out now, you'll bleed to death, Dean. Just leave it there until I can take a look at it, okay?"

He nodded his head as his eyes slowly drooped closed.

"Hey, hey, no, come on," McKenna called, gently shaking him. "You're doing good, Dean. Just keep moving."

He was nearly dead on his feet and the worst thing she could do would be to let him fall asleep.

Up ahead at the end of Main Street, Kenna noticed a small house that was still standing. She got to the house as quickly as a near unconscious man would let her and kicked open the front door. A few of the windows were broken, leaving glass strewn about along the floor, but she finally managed to find a place to set Dean down.

Kenna rushed back to lock the front door and then rushed around the house to find some much needed medical supplies. When she found what little she could, she joined Dean on the floor again. His head was leaning back against the sofa she'd set him up against, and his eyes were closed.

"Dean!" she shouted and clapped her hands, instantly bringing him back to the land of the living. "Eyes open, sweetheart. No sleeping, right now. I'm going to need your help here."

He opened his eyes as much as he could and looked at her. He blinked and almost managed to smile. "You're…so pretty, Kenna."

McKenna rolled her eyes and began to fish through the few supplies she'd found. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. She gently tugged his arms from his flannel shirt, pulled it off, and tossed it aside. Her hand went down and pulled the pocketknife she knew he had hidden in his boot and carefully sliced it down the middle of his t-shirt. She peeled the blood soaked cloth from around the piece of glass still sticking out of his chest and prepared to remove the shard and stitch him up.

Dean moaned and she looked up. His eyes were closed again.

Kenna reached up and cupped her hands on either side of his face.

"Dean, look at me," she begged.

He opened his eyes.

"Listen to me," she commanded, harshly. "It's been almost nine hours since my last shot, okay? I can only go twelve, at the most without another one and then things start going to hell in a really fast hand basket. I'm already starting to feel a little off, and if I go out, then so do you. So I'm gonna need your help here, okay?"

The urgency of her words was exactly what Dean needed to hear. He kept his eyes open, forced them to stay that way, and pushed himself up to sit up straighter.

"All right," he groaned, weakly. "What do you need me to do?"

She reached over, grabbed a bottle of whiskey she'd found in the kitchen, and pressed it into his hand. "Start drinking."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"Aw, dammit, woman," Dean slurred. "That hurts."

"Then you're not drinking enough," Kenna answered as she continued to sew up Dean's wound. She picked up the whiskey bottle and shoved it into his hands again.

"You like getting drunk, Dean?" she asked, angrily. "Well, here's your chance. Now _drink_."

Dean did as he was told and gulped down the bottle's remaining contents. When he tossed the empty glass container in the corner of the room, little stars appeared in his vision. Finally, he was beginning to feel numb. He glanced down and watched as McKenna painlessly completed his stitches.

"You're still bleeding pretty good," she muttered. "Stay right here. I'll go get some more towels."

The whiskey was really starting to hit him, and Kenna's form looked blurry.

"You know, Kenna, I hate it when you go," he slurred. "But I _love_ to watch you leave."

McKenna ignored his words and quickly brought back a big stack of clean towels. She dipped one in a large bowl of water and began to gently wipe the blood away from Dean's chest. As carefully as she could, she taped a large piece of gauze over the stitches and gently patted it down.

Her eyes paused on his tattoo. She lifted her hand and tenderly traced it with her fingertips.

Dean moaned low in his throat and his hand came up to cover hers, forcing her palm to lie flat on his chest. "Kenna…" he whispered, huskily.

She chuckled nervously and pulled her hand back. "I think you might be enjoying this just a little too much, Mister."

Dean didn't answer her with one of his witty comebacks. Kenna lifted her head. He was starting to nod off again.

"Dean, no," she scolded, gently. "I know you're pretty wasted right now, but you gotta stay awake. Talk to me."

He lifted his head and let it fall forward. "Whaddya want me to say?" he slurred.

"Tell me what happened out there," she suggested. "Who did this? And where's Sam?"

"Sam?" Dean murmured, his eyes drooping closed again.

"Yeah, Dean, where is he?" Kenna demanded, took his head in her hands again, and forced him to look at her.

"Demons," he moaned. "There were a ton of demons. They came outta nowhere. And they…they took Sam."

Dean paused, glanced up at her, and smiled. "God, you're _so_ damn pretty."

"Oh, _Dean_," Kenna growled, rolling her eyes. "Where did they take Sam, huh? Where'd they take him?"

"I don't know," he moaned, loudly. "I tried to shoot at 'em, but they jumped me and took my gun. I got away…and started runnin', but the next thing I knew I was flying through the air. I think I hit a wall or somethin'."

"What happened then?" Kenna asked.

"I dunno," Dean whispered, weakly. "I heard Sam screamin' at the demons, tellin' them to let him go…and then I heard…you."

"You must've passed out for a while," McKenna said. "Because by the time I got there, Sam was gone and so was everybody else."

Dean nodded and gulped. For the first time, Kenna noticed that he was starting to shiver. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his forehead.

"Oh man, Dean," she muttered. "You're burning up."

"Yeah, I'm startin' to get cold," he agreed.

She pulled a pillow up, placed it under his side, and grabbed a nearby blanket to cover him with. She snuggled up next to him and gently pulled his head down to rest against her chest.

"Oh, I like this," Dean murmured, the corners of his lips turning up against the skin on her collarbone.

"You hush," she whispered, smiling. "No flirting. You won't remember any of this in an hour, anyway."

"I'll remember," he slurred. "And I'll say more stuff…later."

"Why?" Kenna asked, pressing her palm against his fevered brow again.

"Why not?" he countered, lazily. "I mean, we do end up gettin' married, right?"

With that, he closed his eyes and finally fell asleep. This time, McKenna let him, deciding that he'd be all right as long she woke him up every fifteen minutes or so.

She was going to need Dean later.

Kenna was feeling weaker and weaker with every passing minute and there was no way she'd be able to find Sam without him.

**-Please review! Thank you!**


	39. Chapter 39

About five hours later, McKenna carefully pulled herself out from under Dean's heavy, sleeping form and crossed to the other side of the room. She found her phone and tried, once again, to call Sam, Bobby, and Castiel. All three phones automatically went to voicemail again, and Kenna fought the urge to throw her phone across the room.

She had allowed Dean to sleep for about twenty minutes at a time, each time waking him up, mainly just to make sure that he would. The last thing she needed was to lose him now.

"Dean," she said softly as she sidled up to him again. "Dean."

Kenna ran her fingers through his short hair, taking note that his fever had gone down quite a bit. She pulled her hand back and watched it tremble. She was exhausted but hadn't allowed herself one wink of sleep. It was too dangerous. She was there to wake up Dean, but no one was else was around to return the favor.

"Dean," Kenna whispered, again. "Dean. Honey, wake up."

He moaned low in his chest and winced as he tried to sit up. McKenna gently helped him up and her right hand clasped against his left bare shoulder, touching the scarred handprint there.

She almost smiled, realizing for the first time that they shared so many of the same scars, both emotional and physical, including two brands that would remain on them forever.

"You okay?" she asked, sifting her fingers through his hair again. " Hangover?"

Dean chuckled softly and shrugged. "I've had worse. What time is it?"

"Almost sunup," Kenna answered. "I'd say we should leave, but…we have nowhere to go."

"Where's my car?" Dean grunted.

"Out on Main Street. A few blocks down from where I found you. But I don't think either one of us are in any shape to drive."

Dean frowned. "Why not?"

"You're not driving, Dean," Kenna commanded, harshly. "I did an awesome job on you last night and you are _not_ going to blow my stitches to hell by driving."

Dean started to laugh, but stopped short when it sent a sharp, shooting pain up through his chest. Clearly, Kenna was right. He was in no condition to drive. "All right, you win. What about you? Are you good to drive?"

McKenna closed her eyes. He didn't remember.

"I guess you were out pretty good last night, huh?" she asked him and looked down, gesturing to her body. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not doing so good, Dean."

He squinted his eyes and leaned further into the light to get a better look at her. He frowned. Kenna was pale and dark circles danced under her eyes. Her breathing was shallow and slightly labored.

"No," he groaned, his voice full of concern. He pushed himself up to his knees and weakly crawled towards her. "Oh, baby, when's the last time you had a shot?"

"About fourteen hours ago," she shrugged. "I'll be fine, Dean. I'm tired, but I think I can drive. If _you_ can make it to the car, that is."

Dean nodded. "I can."

"Good," Kenna muttered and handed Dean his flannel shirt. "Because we've got to go find Sam."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"I was hitting on you?"

McKenna smiled as she and Dean slowly made their way down the rubble-strewn sidewalk, clinging to one another for support. More than once, they were both forced to stop and catch their breath.

"You were pretty wasted, Dean," Kenna offered, kindly. "I forced you to drink an _entire_ bottle of whiskey by yourself in less than twenty minutes. You would've been hitting on _Sam_ if he was there."

Dean stopped, looked at her, and reached up to gently run his fingers through her hair for a moment. "I doubt that," he smiled.

Kenna closed her eyes and even leaned into his touch for a second, but she quickly remembered who she was and what they were doing. She pulled back and the moment was officially over.

"The Impala's around this corner," Kenna blushed. "Any idea where we should go first?"

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I don't know. Sam's phone's off and demon's took him so...I got nuthin'."

Kenna frowned. "Well, thanks for the help there, Captain Buzzkill."

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Dean and Kenna hit the deck. They both crawled along the sidewalk as quickly as their weakened bodies would allow until they reached the Impala. The couple hid behind the tires and McKenna tossed Dean a weapon from the to-go arsenal she'd strapped to herself the night before.

"You okay?" she whispered, nodding to the lump of gauze under Dean's shirt. He pulled back the material and allowed her to take a look. No blood. Good.

Another shot echoed off the surrounding buildings and they both jumped.

"Can you see anything?" Dean asked.

Kenna craned her neck and peeked out over the hood of the Impala. A third shot was fired, sending her back down to the ground, huddled behind the front left tire. "I can't see anybody."

"Well, there's gotta be somebody out there," Dean hissed. "And they have a freakin' gun."

"Ah," Kenna grinned, cocking her weapon. "So do we."

"_No_," Dean barked, gritting his teeth. "No, way. Neither one of us is in any shape to go running out there, Dirty Harry style to take out some dude we can't even see yet."

"I am _not_ going to sit here and let him get us first, Dean," Kenna argued, softly. "I say we take our chances and—"

"Dean!" a voice shouted. "Kenna!"

Dean's eyes grew large and threw a sidelong glance at Kenna. "Is that Sam?"

She shrugged and they both remained silent for a long moment.

"Dean! Kenna!"

This time they were sure. It was Sam.

Dean and McKenna pushed themselves up off the ground and came out of hiding. Sam was staggering out of a nearby alleyway, shotgun in hand, clearly ready to keep shooting at anything that moved.

"Sammy!" Dean called and rushed towards his brother, quickly checking him over for any bumps and bruises. Sam was sporting a few red marks on his jaw and a just-developing shiner across his left eye.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder with a smile. "Where the hell have you been, little brother?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sam chuckled. Kenna came running and launched herself into his awaiting arms, hugging Sam so tight that she nearly lost all feeling in her arms. He squeezed her tight and pulled back to look her over.

"You don't look so good, Kenna," he commented. "When was the last time you had a shot?"

"Never mind that right now," she said, shaking her head. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Demons," Sam answered, simply. "Lots and lots of demons."

-**More coming soon! Lots of good ideas! All my love and please REVIEW! -Leigh**


	40. Chapter 40

It took McKenna a bit longer than she would've liked to get out of town, but she'd been forced to slowly weave the Impala in and around the rubble in the streets. The moment they reached the open road, she hit the gas and took off, leaving the town as nothing more than a memory in her rearview mirror.

They passed a barrage of police cars and ambulances heading the other way, and the trio prayed that they'd find at least some of the town's citizens alive.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat to look back at Sam. "Start talkin', Sammy," he groaned. "What the hell happened back there?"

Sam shrugged. "Like I said, there were a ton of demons. At least a dozen of them showed up, knocked you out, obviously, and took off with me."

"Well, what did they do?" Kenna asked, eyeing Sam through the rearview mirror. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," he said. "A little weak, maybe. But that's only because they beat the crap outta me and took blood."

"What? They took blood?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, they said they wanted to see if it was still 'special', but I guess they didn't find what they wanted, 'cause then they started beating the holy hell outta me."

"How did you get away?" Kenna questioned.

"I found a gun," Sam shrugged, almost smiling. "Never hold a Winchester in a pawn shop, right?"

Dean chuckled, and despite the shooting pain in his chest, reached over his seat, and high-fived his brother. "That's my boy."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

They didn't stop driving for at least three hours, wanting to leave more than enough room between them and the ruined town.

Kenna pulled into the nearest hotel, a cheap place with orange shag carpet and barf-colored walls. But it had adjoining rooms and somewhat comfortable beds, which was all they really needed.

In her room, Kenna's hand shook as she held the syringe over her arm. The needle hovered just above a vein in her skin and she was unable to insert it.

"Dean's asleep," Sam said, suddenly as he quietly slipped into her room through the adjoining door. "Passed out the second his head hit the pillow."

Sam's black eye and swollen lip was already healing and Kenna couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

He stood over the bed and looked down at the syringe in her trembling hand. "You want me to take care of that for you?"

She nodded and gladly relinquished the needle to him. Sam sat down on the bed and tapped the skin on her inner arm with his finger, quickly bringing a vein to the surface.

"I can't seem to do it, myself," she whispered, shamefully. "No matter how hard I try. It's just gross, I guess."

"It's all right," Sam shrugged and eased the needle into her arm, the wince on his face matching Kenna's as he gently pressed the plunger down. "That's what I'm here for."

The thick liquid spread throughout her body and the familiar burn settled in.

"Sorry," Sam whispered, noting her discomfort. He removed the needle and patted her arm, hoping the gesture would bring her some comfort. "It'll be over in a minute."

He discarded the used syringe, reached behind her to fluff her pillows, before gently pushing her back until she was lying down against them. "You shouldn't have had to go that long without your meds, Kenna. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Sam," she said, smiling when he began to tuck her in. "I'm fine and I don't blame you."

"Well, maybe you should."

"Demons grabbed you, Sam," Kenna said. "There was nothing you could do."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Sam argued. "You have cancer, Kenna. And it's my fault. _Our_ fault. Me and Dean's."

"Sam, you—"

"You were never supposed to be a part of this, Kenna. And you should've left a long time ago," he said, shaking his head.

"I tried to, remember?" she chuckled. "But you guys came and got me."

"Maybe we should've left you," Sam whispered. "Or maybe…I should leave."

McKenna sat up and touched Sam's hand. "What are you talking about? You're not going anywhere."

"You'd be safe if I did. Your cancer would be healed," he said. "You and Dean…you could be together."

Kenna grinned and couldn't stifle a laugh. "There are huge bucketfuls of reasons why Dean and I aren't together, Sam," she scoffed. "And you being in the way doesn't even _begin_ to make the list."

Sam stood to his feet and walked to the window. For a long time he stared outside and didn't say anything, but eventually a long string of words began to flow.

"This isn't the life that Dean wants, you know," he began, slowly. "He hates the hotels, the life on the road, the greasy diner food…what he really wants is a permanent roof over his head, a house out in the woods somewhere, and home cooked meals. A regular job, a wife, some kids."

Sam turned and gazed back at McKenna, a wistful smile on his face. "That could be you, Kenna."

It could be her. It _had_ been her in the alternate future that Zechariah had offered. She and Dean had been happy and even had a baby together. Somehow, they had managed to get around her past and have a good, healthy marriage.

But as she'd learned in the end, none of it was real. The relationship, the marriage.

_The baby…_

But it had all been false. Something that would never happen. _Could_ never, ever happen.

Her chin trembled as a bitter smile formed on her face. She looked away from him for a moment and saw her reflection in the dingy mirror hanging on the adjacent wall. It didn't matter how old she was now, she always saw a broken and abused little girl staring back at her.

"That will never be me, Sam," Kenna whispered, softly. "I can't give Dean all that."

Sam left his spot by the window and moved to sit on the bed with her again.

"Why not? You don't even have to hunt anymore if you didn't want to, Kenna," he said. "You're demons are gone."

"No, Sam," she argued, gritting her teeth. "They're not gone. They're _here_." She reached up and pointed to her head, nearly drilling the tip of her index finger into her skull. "They're are still here, in my head. They're always there, Sam. And so is everything they did."

Sam reached out and took Kenna's hand. She flinched.

"See that?" she said. "Half the time I can barely _hug_ you guys, much less even allow you to touch me."

Sam frowned and let out a heavy sigh.

"And you want me to give Dean a few kids?" she laughed, bitterly. "Good luck with that one, Sam."

"Kenna, you have grown _so_ much these past few months," Sam argued. "You've changed. We've all seen it. You can—"

"I am _broken_, Sam!" she shouted, suddenly as a few tears slid down her cheek. "I am _so_ broken and Dean deserves better than that."

Sam's argument with McKenna ended right there and then. It wouldn't do any good. There was nothing more that he could say.

And nothing more that Dean could bear to hear.

He was wide-awake and had heard the entire conversation through the cheap hotel's paper-thin walls. And he silently wished, with every fiber of his being, that he hadn't heard a single word.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

None of them got any sleep that night.

McKenna was up most of the night tossing and turning, fighting off the nightmares that had been brought on by her earlier conversation with Sam. Dean stared at the ceiling, his mind caught on the words he was never meant to hear.

_"I'm broken…Dean deserves better…"_

But as far as Dean was concerned, there was nothing better than Kenna.

Around sunup, his eyes drifted closed again, and for a moment he was about to nod enough when Sam's cell phone began to vibrate. It continued to dance across the surface of the nightstand until Sam's giant hand shot out and gripped it in his fist.

"What?" he barked out, but his voice instantly softened. "Oh…hey, Bobby. No, of course you're not calling too early." He glanced over at Dean and rolled his eyes, a clear indication at how unhappy he was with the untimely hour.

"Wait, hold on, slow down, Bobby. _Who_ called you?" Sam asked.

Dean sat up too fast and a shooting pain coursed through his chest. He bit his lip, swore, and turned to look at his brother.

"And he wants to see us?" Sam continued. "Did he say why? Well, all right, we'll head out there in a little bit…yeah, Kenna's good. We're all good. Okay, we'll talk to you soon. Thanks, Bobby."

Sam put down his phone and proceeded to climb out of bed. He tossed a shirt to Dean and began to get dressed, himself. "Come on, we gotta go."

"What? Where?" Dean grumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Who wants to see us?"

Sam looked up and let out a weary sigh. "Chuck."

Dean sat up, feeling a tug against his stitches, and groaned. "Aw, crap."

**-I'm SO very sorry that it took so long to get this up. The website wouldn't let me upload anything the past few days. I've really missed you guys, so please REVIEW! Lots of love, Leigh**


	41. Chapter 41

Later, while Sam was in the shower, Kenna helped Dean out of his shirt and cleaned his stitches again. She still couldn't help but feel exceedingly proud of the job she'd done. The corners of her lips turned up as she gently pressed her fingers against the wound, checking for any infection. No puss squeezed out and Dean didn't make one sound of pain.

"Good," she smiled, not realizing she'd said it aloud.

"Glad you're happy," Dean muttered without looking at her.

Kenna looked up at him and frowned. "Well, you're not your usually bubbly self this morning."

"We're going to see Chuck," he shrugged, half lying about why he was in such a grumpy mood. Most of it was because of what he'd overheard her telling Sam the night before, but for now, using Chuck, as an excuse would have to be good enough.

"Oh," McKenna said, seeming to accept his reasoning. She grabbed Dean's shirt again and began to place it over his shoulders. "And who is this guy, by the way? Is he another hunter?"

Dean grimaced against the painful tug on his stitches as Kenna helped him get back into his shirt. He sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth, hissing his displeasure.

"Ooh, I'm so sorry," she whispered, wincing along with him as she gently reached up to touch his face. "Are you okay?"

She was looking directly into his eyes, gently caressing his face with the tips of her fingers. Her hands stilled against the stubble on his chin and her gaze burned into his like a laser

Every other man on the face of the planet would've taken the bait she was unwittingly offering. Every other man would've grabbed her, pulled her down, and kissed her until they couldn't breathe anymore, but Dean wasn't every other man.

And Kenna wasn't every other woman.

She wasn't in any way trying to bait him. Her touch wasn't sensual, but simply instinctive on her part, almost downright innocent. It was a gesture meant only to apologize for hurting him and to soothe away the pain in his body. Dean knew that better than anyone.

But what Kenna didn't know, and what she could never understand was how her sweet, naïve touches made him ache even more.

"I'm all right," he finally answered, and stood to his feet, needing to get as far away from her as possible. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the room and frowned, trying to remember what they'd been talking about in the first place.

"Chuck?" Kenna said, reminding him.

"Right, Chuck. Chuck's an old…" Dean paused, not quite sure if 'friend' was the right word to use, but decided to utilize it anyway. "He's an old friend. A writer."

"A writer?" Kenna asked, her eyes large in disbelief. "You guys are friends with a writer?"

"Hey, we have smart friends," Dean said, defending himself with a smile. "Although…Chuck's not exactly _smart_, per se. He's more of a…prophet."

Dean ducked his gaze, afraid to look at her once he said the actual word. Kenna was finally going to see how crazy they were, how mixed up she was in working with them. And she would finally get to have her way, and leave them forever.

But a few long minutes passed, and she didn't leave the room. She didn't even get up off the bed. She just sat there, looking at him.

Smiling.

"He's a _prophet_?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "I know, it's probably hard to believe but—"

"With you and Sam?" Kenna scoffed. "Please, I know better than that, Dean. I believe whatever you tell me."

Dean frowned to himself. _If only that were true…_

"And what does he want to see you and Sam for?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "No idea. He called Bobby because he didn't have our latest numbers and he didn't say much."

"Maybe I should stay here," Kenna said, suddenly.

Dean stopped and looked at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, the last few times I've met your friends, Dean, the outcome hasn't always been the best."

She was right. Dean was frowning, but also had to stop himself from chucking. She had met Cas and was scared out of her mind. She had met Zechariah and was completely screwed over by his wonderful gift of life-sucking cancer.

No matter what happened, Kenna always got the raw end of the deal. He wanted to promise that nothing would happen to her when and if she chose to meet Chuck, but he simply couldn't bring himself to promise her anything anymore.

"Chuck's a good guy," Dean said, finally. "He's a little weird, but…we all are, right?" He slowly crossed the room and stood closer to Kenna, glad to see that she didn't take a subtle step back like she usually did.

"Sam and I will do everything we possibly can to make sure that nothing happens to you," he promised, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "You deserve good things, Kenna."

She looked down at the ugly carpet for a long time, before leaning forward and picking up her empty bag.

"But _you_ deserve better," McKenna called over her shoulder, and went back to her room.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna had packed her things and placed them in the trunk of the Impala in record time. She then hopped into the backseat after making sure Dean understood that she still didn't want him to drive. And after Sam administered her shot and demanded she rest, he gladly took over the task of driving to Chuck's.

An hour later, Kenna grabbed a hot cup of tea and a few cheap paperbacks from the bargain bin at the back of a convenience store. Given that her life was spent doing little more than hunting and driving, she rarely, if ever, had the chance to sit down and read a book. So she decided to take this backseat opportunity to do just that.

Without even bothering to look at the covers or read the back flap, she grabbed three books and stretched out across the backseat of the Impala.

"That doesn't look like resting," Sam teased, grinning at her through the rearview mirror.

"I'm laying down," Kenna said, defending herself. "I'm just not _sleeping_."

"Leave her alone, Sam," Dean said. "You're being bossy."

"Yeah, Sam," Kenna agreed. "Who do you think you are? Dean?"

The older brother chuckled at the gentle dig and turned to gaze out the window, knowing deep down that she was right. He had been just a little too hard on her lately.

McKenna took the first book from her lap and opened it. It was supposed to be a romance novel, but it was anything but. After only twenty minutes of reading it, she wanted to grab her gun, toss the book in the air, and shoot it until there was nothing left but a few shreds of paper. She shook her head and blinked, trying to remove the barrage of smut from her once innocent brain.

She shoved the dirty book as far as she could under the front seat and made a mental note to salt and burn the evil thing the next chance she got.

Kenna wouldn't have thought so based on the artwork gracing the cover, but the second book was a little better. Plus, she didn't really mind the two, firm, half naked men on the cover. She would even flip the book closed and gaze at the cover every few pages, just to draw in the physical description of the characters within.

But after reading only the first few pages, the storyline was already beginning to sound familiar.

_Extremely familiar._

Finally, she finished the prologue and began to read the first chapter. She paused at the first printing of the characters' names, and her eyes nearly dropped right out of their sockets.

"Holy…crap," she breathed and sat up. "Holy crap!"

Dean whipped his head around and Sam fought the urge to slam on the breaks.

"What?" Dean shouted. "What's wrong?"

"What the crap is this?" Kenna shrieked and shoved the book forward, nearly smacking Dean in the face with it.

Dean pulled the paperback from her trembling hand and frowned at it.

"Aww, crap," he groaned, showing the book to Sam. He took another look at the book and almost smiled at his brother. "And it's not even the first book."

"_First_ book?" Kenna asked. "You mean there's more?"

"Afraid so," Sam answered, nodding. "There's a whole series."

"And it's true? These books are really about the two of you?"

"Yup," Dean smiled. "Written by none other then Chuck Shurley."

"You _cannot_ be serious," Kenna argued, gently.

Sam and Dean shared a long look, and for a moment, Kenna wondered if they were going to laugh or cry. Surprisingly, they settle for the first choice. The brothers burst out into hysterical laughter, both of them unable to hold it in any longer.

"I can't believe it," McKenna mumbled.

"You have to," Dean reminded her when he finally caught his breath. "You said you believe whatever I tell you."

Kenna rolled her eyes, shoved her body as deep into the backseat as she could manage, and decided to try her hand at the last book.

But it did no good.

No one on earth could concentrate on the written word when the Winchester brothers couldn't stop laughing.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

A few hours later, as Sam pulled into a rundown driveway, McKenna was completing the eleventh book in the series, a volume titled "Faith". As she read the last page an unexpected tear slid down her cheek and she reached up to brush it away.

Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled as he climbed out of the car. "We're here, guys," he said, and made his way up to Chuck's front porch.

Dean slowly reached for his door handle to let himself out, but Kenna's words stopped him.

"You never told me that you were sick, Dean," she said, referring to his short-lived heart defect described in the story.

"It was years ago," he shrugged. "And you read it. I was healed. No big deal. I'm perfectly fine."

"Hmm…" she grunted with a nod. "Well…I guess there's still a lot we don't know about each other, huh?"

Dean looked back at her and smiled softly. "I'd like to know, though."

Kenna looked away from him, but couldn't hide a smile of her own.

"Yeah," she whispered, shyly. "Me too."

"Guys!" Sam called from the now open front door. "Come on!"

Dean and McKenna climbed out of the car and carefully made their way up the stairs and onto the porch. Dean was forced to move a little slower than he wanted to, but for now, the stitches on his chest were still calling the shots.

Kenna stood back a few feet as she watched the brothers shake hands with the dark haired man standing in the doorway. He was about an inch taller than Kenna, but standing next to Sam, his height was absolutely dwarfed. The jeans and gray t-shirt he was wearing was all but unseen beneath a raggedy, striped bathrobe. His hair was unkempt, and his hands were slightly trembling, but his bright, gray eyes were kind.

Sam took a step back and held a hand out to Kenna. "Chuck, this is—"

"McKenna," Chuck breathed before Sam even got a chance to finish the introduction. He stepped forward, completely disregarding Sam and Dean, and took Kenna's right hand, gently clasping it between both of his.

"You know me?" she asked and looked to Sam and Dean for help. Neither one of them offered any, and only shrugged their shoulders.

"Of course, I know you," the writer answered, nervously. "You're all I've been seeing in my visions for the past two months. I've been writing about you nonstop…" His voice trailed off for a moment, and he relinquished his tight grasp on her hand. "It's been some of the most…_difficult_ subject matter I've ever had to write."

Kenna bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the floor. She should've felt violated, perhaps somewhat sullied at having him look at her past that way, but somehow, all she felt for him was pity.

"I'm sorry…that you had to see that," she said, softly.

Sam and Dean frowned and began to watch the same spot on the floor, both of them remaining silent as the mounting awkwardness settled in. But thankfully, Sam eventually broke the silence. "So, Bobby didn't say, but…why exactly are we here, Chuck?"

"I wanted to meet McKenna face to face," Chuck explained to the brothers, but quickly directed his words towards Kenna. "I've seen some things in my visions lately, things that you probably don't know about. Most of them you'll have to see for yourself."

Kenna finally looked up at him "What do you mean?" she asked.

Chuck's gaze dropped to the same spot on the floor for a long moment, taking Kenna's place, but he eventually looked back up at her. His chin was trembling and his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"McKenna," he choked out. "You have to go back to the Compound."

**Please review. Love you, guys!**


	42. Chapter 42

After giving a round of hugs to an understandably upset McKenna, Sam and Dean went to go pick up something for dinner.

"Kenna, can we get you anything special?" Sam asked, as he made his way out of the door. "Beer? Whiskey? Tequila, maybe?"

Kenna almost chuckled at the subtle joke. "Chocolate, Sam," she said. "Lots and lots of chocolate."

Dean pressed a gentle hand to the back of her head and pulled her into another hug. She clung to him like the dying woman she was, and didn't let go for a long time. Her embrace surprised Dean, but who was he to question God when He sent a small blessing his way?

"We'll be back in a little bit," Dean whispered into her hair. "You go sit and get some rest. _Now_."

Kenna smiled softly and sat down on the couch next to Chuck, but given the disheveled appearance of the room, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of vermin and parasites she might be sitting on. She heard the Impala start up outside and silently wished that Sam and Dean had allowed her to go with them.

"I saw what Zechariah did to you," Chuck said, now that they were alone. "I'm so sorry that you were pulled into all this."

Kenna chuckled and looked up at the prophet. "But you were too, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I don't have cancer," Chuck countered, bitterly. "All I have to do is write down what I see about them."

Unable to sit still any longer, Kenna rose to her feet and paced over to Chuck's bookcase. Every shelf was filled to the brim with Supernatural books, each one of them telling stories about Sam and Dean that she probably knew nothing about. She ran her fingertips over the edges and tilted her head to the side so she could read the titles.

_Route 666._

_Devil's Trap. _

_Croatoan._

_Heart. _

_Mystery Spot. _

_No Rest For The Wicked._

"That's the last one. When Dean went to hell," Chuck said, noting that her gaze had come to rest on the last book. "I've written many more since then, but they're not being published anymore."

Kenna nodded and took a step back from the bookcase. "And where do I come in?"

Chuck went to the other side of the room and picked up a large stack of loose papers from his desk. He motioned for her to sit and gently placed the huge pile in her lap.

"It's going to be difficult for you to get through certain parts," he began. "But I think it'll help prepare you for what's coming."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Kenna dunked her last chocolate chip cookie in the small carton of milk that Sam had gotten her, and continued to read Chuck's latest manuscript.

Sam and Dean were being sweethearts again. While they had been out getting dinner they had happened upon a lovely bed and breakfast, and immediately got two rooms for the night.

Even now, two hours after checking into her room, Kenna's smile was still slow to fade.

But within minutes, the bright grin began to grow dim. Chuck had been right. Some of the chapters were extremely hard for her to get through, and more than once she was forced to fight back a wave or two of tears.

Most of what McKenna had read was nothing more than a third person retelling of her own thoughts and memories, but some of it was new. Some of it was straight out of Chuck's visions. Things she didn't remember, simply because they hadn't happened yet. Her fingers hovered over the words on the page as she continued to read on:

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Time stood still for the young rookie cop as he dug his shovel into the almost hidden mound of dirt behind what the locals called, The Compound. He had heard whispered stories from the other officers about the evil that had supposedly taken place here. Horror stories of a strange cult and occult activity, involving the kidnap and sexual abuse of countless young girls. _

_He hadn't wanted to believe it. The tales were almost too horrible to be true, too atrocious to be real. But here he was, digging up a forgotten pile of secrets behind the evil property, a task that was based on nothing more than a personal hunch from the local sheriff. _

_The young rookie had been digging for over a half hour and so far, he hadn't found a thing. For a moment, he thought of moving around the surface dirt to make it look like he'd spent the whole day digging, but had no success at finding any evidence. Then he could take off. Maybe go down to the diner and spend the rest of the afternoon flirting with the new waitress. _

_He thrust the shovel into the ground one last time for good measure…and hit something. _

_His hands trembled as he reached out and put on a pair of rubber gloves. He dropped down to the knees and began to carefully sift his fingers through the soft dirt. It didn't take any time at all until he pulled out a small jagged piece of bone. He set it aside and kept digging. _

_Suddenly, his hand cupped something round and he pulled it up through the soft earth. His eyes settled on the item for a moment, but he quickly dropped it out of his hand on a gasp. Bile rose up in his throat as the bony object looked back at him. Tears welled up in his eyes and he took a series of deep breaths. _

_Suddenly, he realized that not only were the stories true, but they were even worse than what he'd heard. _

_Staring back at him was the too-tiny skull of what must have been an unborn baby._

~~~~~*****~~~~~

The pile of papers tumbled from Kenna's fingers and landed in a heap on the floor. Her knees buckled and she fell forward, her limp body joining the pages below. A low wail began deep in her stomach, rose up to her chest, and exited her mouth.

McKenna didn't remember hearing anyone enter her room, much less come and join her on the floor, but the next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in the strong, familiar arms of Dean Winchester.

He allowed her to cling to him, ignoring the pain when her hands unwittingly tugged on his stitches. His fingers skimmed the floor until he found the last page she'd been reading. He quickly read the last couple lines, but his mind could only settle on the few final words.

…_The too-tiny skull of what must have been an unborn baby._

"Oh, God," Dean whispered with dawning realization. "Oh, my God."

"There were babies, Dean," Kenna sobbed. "We had babies!"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"Kenna, listen. Just because there are remains at the Compound doesn't mean that they had anything to do with any of you," Sam began, but McKenna wouldn't be swayed.

She continued to whirl around the room, grabbing her clothes and shoving them into the nearest duffel bag. At one point, she turned too quickly. The room spun and she pitched forward. Dean rushed for her, caught her in his arms, and forced her to sit down in the easy chair in the corner.

"Sit. And Calm down," he ordered, gently. "Whether you like it or not, you're in no shape to be running around like this."

Kenna hung her head in shame. Dean was right.

And so was Sam.

It was possible that the bones had been there long before the Compound was even in existence. Or maybe Chuck was completely wrong. Maybe his visions were nothing more than another side affect of his daily drunken stupors.

"I think it's worth checking out," McKenna finally said, reaching for her cell phone. "Maybe I should call someone or something."

"Wait, Kenna, hold on," Sam said, gently. "I know that you hate thinking back to what happened at the Compound but…do you remember anything that might warrant what Chuck saw? Anything having to do with any of the girls getting pregnant or something like that?"

Kenna took a deep breath, grabbed a nearby pillow, and hid her torso behind it as though it were a shield. Dean was nearly overcome with the desire to touch her hand, or even better, pull her back into his arms and hold her tight like he had earlier. But she had crawled back, deep inside herself where it was always safe. Where he wondered if he'd ever be welcome.

"I don't know, Sam," Kenna mumbled into the pillow. "When we weren't too weak from being underfed, we were being drugged so we couldn't leave…or fight them off."

Dean closed his eyes and looked away, feeling as though she deserved some semblance of privacy.

"They did whatever they damn well pleased, so yeah, some of the girls could've gotten pregnant, I suppose," she continued. "I don't know. I honestly don't remember anything about that."

There was a long, pensive silence between the trio of hunters, but Sam eventually broke it.

"I'll look into it," he promised, stood to his feet, and squeezed her hand. "I'll go start doing some research right now." Sam patted his brother's shoulder, offered him a whispered word of encouragement, and left the room.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked from his spot on Kenna's bed.

"No," she whispered, as though she were in some kind of daze. Suddenly, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with nothing but fear.

"Dean," she breathed, tearfully. "What if one of those babies…is mine?"

**-More good stuff coming soon. Love you all so much! Please continue to review nicely. Thank you!**


	43. Chapter 43

Dean didn't say a word as McKenna crumpled to the floor in hysterical tears. And he remained silent as he went to her and picked her up off the floor, noting that she felt lighter than she ever had before. He gently deposited her trembling form on the bed and tucked her in. In her grief, she begged him to stay with her, even held back the covers for him join her, but Dean shook his head, unable to trust himself to be that close to her.

Instead he simply hugged her, kissed her forehead, and made himself comfortable within the easy chair in the corner. He promised himself that he would only stay until she fell asleep, and he kept that promise to the best of his ability. When her sobs finally subsided, her eyes drifted closed, and her breathing slowed to something deep and easy, he quietly left the room.

"Find anything yet?" Dean asked when he found Sam in their room, sitting up in bed, pounding the keys on his laptop.

"Actually, yeah," he answered and turned the screen so Dean could see it, too. "The police department back in South Dakota just disclosed a press release about finding human remains on the property of the Compound today. So far they've found four infants."

Dean shook his head. So, Chuck had been right.

"And I just talked to Bobby," Sam continued. "The cops contacted him since he was there when they first raided the place. They asked him for the names of any survivors he might know."

"Did he mention Kenna?" Dean asked.

"Not yet," Sam answered. "He said he wanted to talk to her about it first."

"Good. That's good," Dean mumbled, his tone suddenly growing somber. "Hey, Sam…do you…do you think that one of those babies…might be hers?"

Sam let out a heavy sigh. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about that. And he'd be lying even more if he said that it couldn't be possible.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I mean they'd have to do some DNA tests and stuff. And the only way that's possible is if there's still genetic material available in the bones."

Dean chuckled softly, despite the gravity of the situation. "Man, you really get off on this kinda stuff, don't you, Sammy?"

Sam smiled wistfully, and proceeded to shut down his computer. "Anyway, Bobby said he'd call Kenna tomorrow and ask her what she wants to do about all this."

"Tomorrow's good," Dean agreed. "Because she's not in any condition to be put through anything else tonight."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Somehow, McKenna managed to sleep for a few hours, though her dreams were filled with the sounds of crying babies that she desperately searched for, but couldn't find. When her body couldn't handle anymore of the nightmares, she climbed out of bed, taking a nearby blanket with her.

Kenna knelt down, picked up the scattered pages of Chuck's manuscript off the floor, and cuddled up in the easy chair. She had to read more, had to know more about what Chuck had seen. She expected to see more about herself and the evils of the Compound, but instead she found something else, something just as shocking as what she'd found earlier.

It was a flashback of scenes within Dean's head, his thoughts and feelings, dating all the way back to the day they'd met. The words jumbled together as she read on:

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean looked up and watched as the rider pulled off his helmet. A long mass of thick, blonde hair shook free and fell around…**her** shoulders._

_It was a woman. Bobby had lied…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_Check it out, man. She's like the female version of you," Sam chuckled._

"_I don't know about that," Dean argued, pointing to the screen on her Ipod. "I'm not a huge Cat Stevens fan, but still, most of that's a pretty awesome playlist right there…"_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean still couldn't stop himself from glancing back in the rear view mirror every few seconds. "I swear, I could watch that sweet girl following me in my mirror all day."_

"_Which one?" Sam chuckled. "The car or McKenna?"_

_Dean shot a glare at his brother. "The car."_

"_What, then? You don't think McKenna's a sweet girl?"_

"_I guess she can be," Dean offered. "In her own…weird little way…"_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_When I was five, I was taken from my own home, from my own bed, in the middle of the night by two robed men," McKenna cried. "They killed my parents right in front of me, and took me to the Compound, and I lived there for ten years. Ten long years."_

_Dean watched her, wanted to reach out and comfort somehow, but there was nothing he could offer that would ever be enough…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Well, you have to admit," Sam said. "We've never met a woman quite like her. She's one of the best hunters out there."_

"_And she's good with weapons," Dean agreed. "She drives that car like she stole it, she's kinda pretty, she's got a little extra meat on her bones that just makes her so…hmm…and dude, she **smells** like apple pie…" _

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean gulped, realizing that it was probably the first time since he was thirteen, that he'd been nervous around a girl. But then again, McKenna wasn't just any girl. She was just…different…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_"But, believe me, Dean. You don't want this," the demon said, spreading McKenna's arms, and gesturing to her body. "I **wrecked** this thing. I mean, you didn't say nothin' about it, but I know you saw all those scars on her when you pulled her out of the river. She'd never attract anybody with those things."_

_"You don't know anything about me," Dean argued…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_"That girl downstairs means more to you than even you understand," Zechariah said. "It's hilarious, really. "You've never done anything more than hug her a few times, touch her arm…well, you almost kissed her once, but…she was being ridden hard by a demon at the time, so I don't think that counts. McKenna, she's different, isn't she? She's special. You know, in every sense but a technical one, I think she's still a virgin…"_

_Dean's fist shot out and slammed into Zechariah's jaw before he even had a chance to stop it. The angel stumbled back, rubbed his sore jaw, and shook his now aching head. "All right, I suppose I deserve that one," he surprisingly conceded. "But, you just proved my point: you **respect** her…"_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean knew that this had nothing to do with him. It was only about McKenna and the broken little girl within her that had suffered so much, and been forced to grow up too quickly. Dean eventually forced himself to turn away from the comatose man in the hospital bed, leaving McKenna to grieve alone. He headed back downstairs to wait until she was ready to lean on his shoulder again… _

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean slowly fixed his gaze on her face, taking in every line, every angle, every little thing that told him that she was still here, still alive, still breathing. Dean leaned his forehead forward, allowing it to rest against hers. His thumbs slid along her cheeks and Kenna's eyes slowly closed... _

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_"I am **broken**, Sam!" Dean heard McKenna shouting. "I am **so** broken and Dean deserves better than that." But as far as Dean was concerned, there was nothing better than Kenna…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Every other man on the face of the planet would've taken the bait she was unwittingly offering. Every other man would've grabbed her, pulled her down, and kissed her until they couldn't breathe anymore, but Dean wasn't every other man. And Kenna wasn't every other woman. She wasn't in any way trying to bait him. Her touch wasn't sensual, but simply instinctive on her part, almost downright innocent. Dean knew that better than anyone. But what Kenna didn't know, and what she could never understand was how her sweet, naïve touches made him ache even more…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean pressed a gentle hand to the back of her head and pulled her into a hug. She clung to him like the dying woman she was, and didn't let go for a long time. Her embrace surprised Dean, but who was he to question God when He sent a small blessing his way…?_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean was nearly overcome with the desire to touch her hand, or even better, pull her back into his arms and hold her tight like he had earlier. But she had crawled back, deep inside herself where it was always safe. Where he wondered if he'd ever be welcome…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Dean didn't say a word as McKenna crumpled to the floor in hysterical tears. And he remained silent as he went to her and picked her up off the floor. He gently deposited her trembling form on the bed and tucked her in. She begged him to stay with her, even held back the covers for him join her, but Dean shook his head, unable to trust himself to be that close to her…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna's fingers tingled as she gripped the papers within her hands. The scene in the last paragraph had only taken place a few hours ago, but somehow Chuck had seen it, written it down, and the situation had unfolded exactly how he'd inscribed on paper.

Dean had never said a word, but then again, he apparently didn't need to. His actions had spoken louder than the words he never said. Kenna had never, in her entire life felt this stupid. She hadn't noticed any of it, hadn't seen the longing gazes or really taken notice of all his gentle touches.

Every thought of the Compound and the tragic, new evidence found there completely flew out of Kenna's head. Somehow, this took precedence.

She had never seen what was not so secretly hidden in Dean Winchester's eyes.

And apparently, it had all been there for quite some time.

**-I hope that the flashbacks/McKenna reading the manuscript part wasn't too confusing. And I hope you're all still like this. Please review. Lots of love. -Leigh**


	44. Chapter 44

"You want to run, don't you?"

McKenna lifted her gaze from the floor as Chuck handed her a much-needed cup of hot coffee. He was in the same robe he'd been in before, but this time he was in pajamas as well. When she arrived unannounced at his house that morning, she'd been surprised to find the living room a little tidier than it had been the day before.

"How did you know I was coming?" she asked, ignoring his previous question.

Chuck shrugged. "Oh, you know. It's the whole…Prophet…thing."

Kenna chuckled and took a sip of coffee from the mug in her hands.

"How'd you get here, by the way?" Chuck asked.

Kenna smiled. "Shouldn't you already know that?" she teased.

"Well, I don't see _everything_," he chuckled, defending himself.

"I stole the Impala this morning while Dean was still sleeping," Kenna answered.

"Aren't you afraid of the consequences?" Chuck questioned.

"What's the point?" she shrugged. "I'm already dying, so what difference does it make if I die from cancer or the wrath of Dean Winchester?"

Chuck snickered bitterly and picked up the stack of papers that McKenna had brought back to him. He watched her gaze return to a low spot on the floor, and she let out a weary sigh.

"Have you seen that part yet?" she asked, softly. "Am I going to die?"

Chuck said nothing.

"What about the infants' remains on the Compound?" she tried again. "Are any of them mine?"

Once again, Chuck remained as silent as the grave.

"Does Sam say yes to Lucifer?" she asked, her tone rising. "Does Dean say yes to Michael? Will Bobby walk again?"

Chuck closed his eyes and bit his lip as Kenna began to shout. "What about Castiel? And all the demons? What's going to happen to everybody on this whole freakin' planet, Chuck?"

"I don't know!" he finally said. "I don't know _everything_. I only know what the angels allow me to see. Some of those things, yes, I've seen them, but I can't tell you what happens!"

McKenna didn't ask why. In fact, she didn't ask him anything else at all. She knew it would get her nowhere. She knew that Chuck would probably be severely reprimanded, maybe even punished if he told her anything more. But whether angels or demons would administer his punishment, she wasn't quite sure. Nor did she want to find out.

"You were right before," she whispered, suddenly. "I _do_ want to run away."

Chuck looked at her and smiled sadly. He knew the answer already, but found it necessary to ask the question, anyway. "Why?"

Kenna shrugged. "That's my first instinct for everything, I guess."

"But you shouldn't run from this," Chuck said and patted the manuscript on the coffee table with his hand. "You read it for yourself: Dean…cares for you."

A thought suddenly entered McKenna's head.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" she asked. "Yes, you gave me the manuscript to tell me about what they'd find at the Compound, but you also wanted me to know Dean's…feelings."

"Someone had to step in," Chuck said, smiling. "Clearly, neither one of you were ever going to."

"And I'm still _not_ going to," Kenna said.

"What?" Chuck asked, completely shocked. "You're dying, McKenna."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'm fully aware of that, Chuck."

The prophet rolled his eyes. "No, I mean that you're…you're running out of time. Why don't you want to spend what little you have left with Dean?"

"It's not a matter of _wanting_ to, Chuck," Kenna whispered. "It's a matter of having the ability to."

"You don't think you're good enough," Chuck said. It was a statement, not a question.

"That's because I'm not," Kenna shrugged. "Dean is a…man. He has…certain _needs_ that I cannot…fulfill."

Chuck almost laughed out loud at her inability to say what she was really trying to say. He even had to place his palm over his mouth to stifle a giggle. Sex. McKenna was talking about sex.

"Oh, McKenna," he said, grinning, and reached over to place a supportive hand on her knees. "In all the visions that I had of you, I never once realized how much of a clueless idiot you are."

Kenna jerked up to her feet and fought the urge to reach for her gun and empty a clip into Chuck's skull. "Excuse me?!"

Chuck lifted his hands, palms up in mock surrender. She finally accepted his silent apology and slowly dropped down to her seat again. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"McKenna, Dean hasn't even _spoken_ to another woman since he met you," Chuck explained, slowly. "Much less done anything _else_…with another woman…if you get my drift."

It took her a moment, but eventually, she did. Chuck was right. Dean had been living the life of a monk for the past few months. And from what little she'd heard Bobby and Sam say about him, Dean was far from celibate.

But apparently…he had changed.

"Chuck, I've never…" Kenna whispered soberly, and then mumbled, "Good Lord, I can't believe I'm talking about this to a man I only met yesterday…"

"It's all right," Chuck said, and patted her knee again. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he smiled, sadly. "I saw what happened to you, McKenna. I don't blame you for feeling the way you do towards love…and all that it…entails."

McKenna smiled a silent 'thank you', and took another gulp of coffee.

"Maybe Dean could be the one to…save you," Chuck said, gently

"I've been alone my whole life, Chuck," she said slowly. "I've always taken care of myself. I've always saved myself. I don't even know how to begin to let somebody else come to my rescue."

"I understand," Chuck said again. "But if I may make a suggestion?"

Kenna nodded her permission.

"Give Dean a chance," the prophet whispered. "He's already trying to save the rest of the world…I think he'd consider it an honor if you let him save you a little bit, too."

Kenna looked up at Chuck, a blank expression painted over her face. She placed the half empty coffee mug on the table and slowly stood to her feet.

"I better get the Impala back to the Inn before Dean starts freaking out," she said, softly and reached down to squeeze Chuck's hand. "Thank you for everything, Chuck."

"Where will you go now?" he asked.

"Back to the Compound, I guess," she shrugged.

"And what will you do about Dean?"

Kenna released his hand and slowly made her way to the front door. Her hand gripped the doorknob as she looked back over her shoulder at Chuck.

"I don't know yet," she answered. "All I know is that my life just got a lot shorter, so I guess I'd better live it…wisely."

Chuck nodded, not quite sure what that statement meant for Dean.

"Goodbye, McKenna," he said. "Take care of yourself."

McKenna nodded, said goodbye, and let herself out.

Clearly, she didn't know how the story ended, but Chuck did.

He watched McKenna leave and a slow smile appeared across his lips.

**-More to come soon! Please review…Thank you!**


	45. Chapter 45

McKenna pulled into the parking lot of the Bed and Breakfast and found Dean sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. She slowly climbed out of the Impala, hesitantly made her way up the stairs, and took a few careful steps toward him. His head was resting against the back of the chair, his eyes were closed, and he was leisurely rocking back and forth.

"You know, I could really get used to this Bed and Breakfast thing," he said, smiling.

"You're…you're not mad?" Kenna asked.

"Why would I be mad?" Dean countered, opening his eyes.

"Well…I, um…I stole the car," she reminded him. "I went to go see Chuck. I was gone all morning."

Dean lifted his head and chuckled. "But you came back."

McKenna grinned. If she had been in a room, the whole thing would have lit up.

"How are your stitches?" she asked.

Dean shrugged and gently pulled back the material of his shirt to show her his wound. "No infection and clean as a whistle. You did an awesome job, Dr. Kenna," he smiled.

She and Dean spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the front porch, rocking and talking. He seemed to be doing everything within his power to keep her from thinking about anything having to do with the Compound. Keeping the words she'd read in Chuck's manuscript in mind, Kenna felt a bit awkward, but luckily, Dean didn't seem to notice.

And Kenna had never been so thankful.

"I assume you want to go back to the Compound?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "Bobby called me on my way back from Chuck's. He says the cops want to do some DNA tests to…find out if…" the sentence trailed off and Dean reached forward to place a comforting hand on Kenna's knee. It was something he'd done a dozen times before, but this time it felt…different.

"I'll be right there with you," he promised. "So will Bobby and Sam."

Kenna smiled. "Well, that's all I need that, isn't it?"

Dean returned her grin, released his hold on her knee, and stood to his feet. "I'm going to head into town to get some supplies. You could go upstairs and get some rest if you want."

McKenna cocked her head and just stared at him for a moment. It wasn't an order. It was a suggestion. For the first time, Dean wasn't telling her what to do. He was giving her the last word and allowing her to choose what was best for her.

"Yeah, I think I will." She decided and gazed up at him with a smile.

Suddenly, Dean leaned down and gripped the armrests of her chair, instantly stilling its rocking motion. His strong arms blocked her in while his face hovered just above her own. Her body stiffened and she stared up into his eyes.

For the first time, thanks to Chuck's manuscript, she finally saw it. All the words he wouldn't say, all the kisses he held back, everything, right there in his eyes, staring her right in the face.

"Do you want more chocolate?" he whispered, speaking almost reverently about her drug of choice.

Her mouth went dry at just the sight of him. "Yeah," she whispered. "Thank you."

Dean's gaze went from Kenna's eyes and then down to her lips in one, quick sweep. He squeezed the armrests of the rocker until his knuckles turned white, once again fighting the urge to kiss her.

"All right, I'll be back soon," he grunted, broke the spell of her gaze, and pushed himself up from the rocker. He quickly made his way down the steps, across the front lawn, and climbed into the safety of the Impala.

McKenna watched him go, and for once, she wasn't happy to see him leave.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean lied.

_Well, not exactly._ He did plan on getting Kenna's chocolate and a few other supplies before they headed back to South Dakota, but his main reason for going out was to stop by and see Chuck. Within minutes, Dean pulled into Chuck's driveway and made his way into the prophet's house. Without even asking for it, he placed a large stack of papers in Dean's hands.

"I think this is everything you'll need," Chuck said, biting his lip. "Although I have to warn you, Dean…she's already read it, too."

Dean looked back and glared at him. "What?"

Chuck physically ducked and sat down on the couch to avoid Dean's hard gaze. "I wanted to prepare her for what the police would find at the Compound," he began. "I didn't even think about her seeing the things I wrote about…you."

Dean grit his teeth and squeezed his free hand into a fist at his side. He wanted to hit something. Hard. And the closest thing was Chuck.

"Don't hit me," he said, already knowing what Dean wanted to do. "You can't hit me, because now I'm letting you read her thoughts, too."

Chuck lifted a robed arm and swiped the back of his hand across his moist, sweaty forehead. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered. "Interfering in two people's lives and inner feelings like this."

"You can't believe you're doing _this_?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You've been doing this to me and Sam for years!"

"Yes, but you and Sam are brothers," Chuck argued. "Sam wasn't sexually tortured his whole childhood and he's not dying of cancer. He's also not fighting any secret, hidden feelings for you."

Dean stood back and stared at Chuck for a moment. He glanced down at the manuscript in his hands and almost smiled. "Is that really what she's doing?"

"I'm not saying anything more," Chuck stated with an upheld hand. "I'm dealing with two people that can not only shoot me, but probably know how to rip my spine out through my ear and leave me alive long enough to watch."

Dean chuckled. "Lucky for you, _I_ don't know how to do that, but yeah, Kenna probably does."

He sat down on the couch next to Chuck. His eyes settled on the first few words, but he quickly looked up at the prophet again. He tapped the front page with his palm. "Am I going to need a beer for this?"

Chuck didn't answer. He simply stood up, went to the kitchen, and brought a beer back for Dean. The hunter took it with a frown. "Great."

He lifted his legs and let his heels rest on the coffee table in front of him. With one more displeased glare at Chuck and a long swig of beer, Dean began to read.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_I'm Dean. Nice to meet you, McKenna." _

_The blonde looked down and stared at his outstretched hand for a long, uncomfortable moment. Her eyes grew large and glazed over. She didn't say a word or make any effort to shake Dean's hand. Her chest quickly rose and fell as her breathing suddenly kicked into high gear…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Her shower had washed the dirt from her skin, and the grime from her hair, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, or how hot the water, it could never wash away all the dirt within her soul._

**_Ugly, sick, useless… _**_She could hear the whispers in her ears, the buzzing in her heart. __**Whore, slut…**_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Over time, McKenna had grown closer to Dean than she ever thought she would. She had gone out of her way, and even further out of her comfort zone, to cultivate what was becoming a very strong, lasting friendship. She and Dean had spent plenty of time in the woods doing target practice together. She had learned more about his family, and how much he really missed not having one. She knew his likes, and dislikes, his hopes and dreams. And he knew hers._

_Well, some of them anyway._

_Forming a bond of trust with him was still taking some time, and even twice as much effort. But, secretly, McKenna was enjoying every minute of it…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_You want to run away," Castiel accused, gently. "You want to leave Sam and Dean. You're scared. You feel that you've allowed them to get too close to you. That you'd be better off if you were on your own again. There's nothing wrong with having friends, McKenna. Friendship is one of my Father's greatest gifts. Those who receive it often lead extremely blessed lives."_

_The angel stood to his feet, stepped closer to the head of the bed, and gently touched her cheek with his hand. She was instantly reminded of the first time he'd done that. She closed her eyes when she felt a current of energy course into her body. It was an emotion she hadn't felt…ever._

_**Grace, peace, support, comfort.**_

"_That is what love and friendship offers, McKenna," the angel whispered. "If you choose to allow it into your life."_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_Kenna felt a flutter deep in her stomach. Something warm…and fuzzy. She wrenched her gaze away from Dean and made her way out of the bathroom, careful to avoid any physical contact as she passed him. His hand reached up and gently took hold of her arm._

"_Hey," he whispered._

_McKenna stopped and looked up, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. She noticed every drop of green there, and behind the bright color, a deep shade of compassion and patience. And something else…_

_**Grace, peace, support, comfort.**_

_It was what Castiel had given her earlier, only now, if it was possible, the emotions were even stronger. McKenna watched Dean's eyes slide down to gaze at her lips, and before she could stop herself, she glanced at his, too._

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_As McKenna lay in bed, a gust of wind and the sound of fluttering wings filled the room. She glanced over and saw the form of a man standing in the corner. "Cas?"_

_The figure silently moved towards her and held up two fingers. It wasn't Castiel. Before she had a chance to call for help, the figure pressed his fingertips to McKenna's forehead and everything went black…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"This is where it starts to get interesting," Chuck suddenly interrupted. "When Zechariah showed McKenna the alternate reality. You missed all that, Dean but…"

Dean slowly lifted his eyes away from the papers in front of him and glared up at Chuck. His gaze so sharp it could have sliced the prophet in half.

"Chuck…" Dean growled. "I'm good."

"Well, you won't be in a minute," Chuck argued and placed another beer on the coffee table in front of him. "Believe me, you're going to need that."

Dean rolled his eyes, but took another swig of beer, just to be safe. He flipped to the next page and continued on.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_For the first time, McKenna took a good, hard look at the new room and immediately noticed a number of picture frames on one of the dressers. In every one of them she was smiling. In every one of them she was happy._

_Suddenly, another picture caught her eye. In this one, she wasn't alone. It was a photo of her and Dean. He was obviously holding the camera and they were…kissing. Straight, full, right on the lips kissing._

_But surprisingly enough, that photo wasn't the most shocking one. She picked up a fancy silver picture frame hiding behind it. It was a wedding photo. The groom was incredibly handsome in his tux, and the bride beside him wore a gorgeous white gown that flattered her beautifully. The couple looked completely and surprisingly perfect together._

_The groom was Dean and the bride…was McKenna…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

_For a moment, McKenna could have sworn that her heart stopped. Dean was standing before her, grinning and holding a newborn baby girl in his arms. Before she knew what was happening, she was standing up next to him, and gazing down into the face of a precious, sleeping baby. She squirmed and cooed a few times, but never seemed to really wake up._

_She was absolutely beautiful. The picture of everything that McKenna had secretly always wanted, but never dreamed she'd have. Her hand went up and hovered over the baby's head, aching to touch her sweet, soft skin._

_This wasn't real. It couldn't be. The beautiful home, the gorgeous bedroom, the loving husband, and new baby. It couldn't belong to her. McKenna didn't deserve this. She wasn't good enough to have all this. She wasn't good enough for Dean or for the baby girl in his arms…_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_You know, it's funny, baby girl. I don't even remember marrying your Daddy," McKenna paused, leaned in, and whispered, "Much less sleeping with him, but… here you are."_

_Kenna reached down and slid her finger down the front of her face, tapping her fingertip on her little nose. "A tiny baby girl. A tiny baby girl with my nose—" She stopped mid-sentence and gasped as Kyla finally opened her eyes. Staring back at her was a familiar pair of jewel green eyes. _

_"My nose," she whispered. "…And Dean's eyes..."_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_I'll admit I've enjoyed this," Kenna said. "I've loved it, actually. I have the life that I've always wanted, but never thought I deserved." She glanced down at the baby in her arms and her chin began to tremble. "I have a beautiful daughter," she choked and looked back at Dean. "I have a wonderful husband that loves me. And Bobby can walk again."_

"_Sounds like you got the sweet end of the lollipop if you ask me," Zechariah shrugged._

"_Yeah, I did. You're right," Kenna agreed. "But it's not worth it at all if Sam isn't part of it, too."_

_Zechariah's mouth hung open as he watched McKenna swing her legs over the side of the bed and place a still sleeping Kyla in her sleeping father's arm. She leaned down, rested her head on Dean's shoulder and lovingly caressed her daughter's head. Her lips ghosted over Dean's cheek and for a moment, the corners of his lips turned up in a tiny smile. She slowly stepped away from them and bravely made her way over to the angel._

"_You can do whatever the hell you want to me," she growled. "You can do whatever the hell you want to Sam and Dean, but no matter what, I will find a way to end up here, again…"_

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean completed the last word and reverently set the stack of papers back on the coffee table. He was shocked, absolutely shocked. Chuck had been right to bring him another beer.

"She left," Deanwhispered.

Chuck nodded. "You gave up your humanity to save her from cancer, Dean," he said, softly. "So she gave up her life with you to save Sam."

"And we had a…baby. She didn't tell me that part," Dean said, realizing something. "No wonder she's so worried about one of the babies at the Compound being hers. She's already lost one..."

With that, Dean stood to his feet and started toward the door.

"Dean, where are you going?" Chuck called.

"I gotta go," he said, simply. "I gotta go…I gotta go talk to Kenna."

**-More still to come. Please review. Thank you!**


	46. Chapter 46

Dean drove straight back to the Bed and Breakfast without even bothering to get McKenna her chocolate. As far as he was concerned, she didn't deserve any now. He stomped inside and a pit stop in his own room, dropping a few pages of Chuck's manuscript on his brother's bed.

"What's this?" Sam asked.

"Read it," Dean demanded. "And don't say Kenna never did anything for you."

Sam balked at his brother and the small stack of papers at the end of his bed. He reached out, took hold of them, and began to read. Dean turned his back and left the room without another word.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam called after him.

His brother didn't turn back, held up his own handful of papers, and shouted over his shoulder, "I'm going to have a chat with the most difficult woman in the world!"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean entered her room without knocking, but did so as quietly as he could. He found McKenna asleep, in bed, and despite being furious with her, couldn't help but smile softly at the sight of her sleeping form. He looked at her for a long time, taking in every line of her pretty face, the way her hair fell across her forehead, and then there was his favorite part.

He had first noticed it when she was in the hospital. He had been watching her sleep, watching her breathe, and he'd seen that the corners of her lips would often turn up in a tiny, little smile. Even during her treatment, while she was in physical agony, some small speck of hope peeked through, even if it was only while she slept.

"Kenna," Dean whispered so softly that he knew she wouldn't hear him. He slowly moved forward and slid his palm up her side, knowing she couldn't feel his touch through the thick comforter. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and lay with her the way Chuck's manuscript said they had in Zechariah's world. He wished he had been there, wished it had been him that the angel had sent ahead so he could have experienced what she had.

McKenna shifted beneath the blankets and a partially bare shoulder peeked out. Dean saw the faint scars along her skin and wanted to reach out and touch them, kiss them, and make all the pain within her go away.

Suddenly, almost as if she could hear his thoughts, Kenna's eyes fluttered open and gazed up at him.

"Hey, you," she whispered, and even smiled at him for a moment, but then she glanced down and saw the sheets of paper in his hand. She instantly sprang up in bed, a movement so quick that it made her dizzy for a moment. Her eyes grew big and shiny as they went from Dean, to the papers, and back again. "What's that?"

He lifted his hand and placed the pile in her lap. "You know that is," he said, his voice low and husky.

He watched her eyes as she slowly came to realize where he'd gone and who he'd been with. Her chest began to heave as her gaze darted around the room, her mind clearly going from one extreme to the other. For a second, he could almost swear that he could read her thoughts:

_What has he read? What does he know? Does he know everything they did to me? Does he know what I'm starting to feel for him? And how it scares me to death...?_

Kenna's chin trembled and her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at everything and anything but stayed away from Dean's gaze.

"Kenna…"

"Where's my chocolate?" she whispered, frantically.

Dean's eyebrows shot up for a moment, but the questioning expression quickly turned to a smile, and a second later he couldn't hold back his laughter. Right there in front of him was the picture of a woman having a nervous breakdown, and all she could think about was her sudden need for chocolate.

Dean slowly sat down on the bed and leaned most of his weight forward so he could be closer to her. "I kinda forgot to bring you that," he finally said. "I had other things on my mind."

"Like what?" Kenna asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Like _you_."

A tear slipped past her lashes and slowly slid down her cheek. Dean's hand instantly shot up and gently brushed it away.

"You read what's in there," she whispered and glanced down at the papers on the bed, then she reached up and tapped her temple with her fingertip. "So you know what's in here."

Dean swept a hand up and gently pulled her hand down, keeping it in his grasp for as long as she'd allow. "I don't like what's in there," he whispered. "And I wish I could take it all out, but…I can't."

"It's too much, Dean," Kenna said, pulled her hand back, and got up out of bed. She turned her back on him and crossed the room to gaze out the window.

"What's too much?" he asked.

"Everything," she sighed. "Especially now."

"What do you mean?"

Kenna turned her head and glared at him. "I might have almost had a child, Dean," she said, gritting her teeth. "Hell, I may have had more than one, for all I know. I could have been pregnant multiple times, and hadn't even known it."

"So?" Dean grunted.

"So, when does it end, Dean?" she asked, arms outstretched in complete frustration. "The Compound stuff and the cancer was bad enough, okay? I mean, that should've sent you running away, screaming your head off, but now we bring this baby stuff into the equation?"

"So?" Dean said again with a carefree shrug.

Kenna rolled her eyes. "Are you crazy?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," Dean nodded, simply. "About you."

For a long moment, McKenna was completely silent. Another tear slipped down the side of her face. She had read everything in Chuck's manuscript. She knew how he felt now, but somehow actually hearing him say it brought it into stark reality.

Kenna looked at him, watched him as he stayed there, sitting on her bed. He looked up at her…and smiled.

Suddenly, she was too.

"You were an accident, Dean," she said, nearly laughing as she continued to wipe away the tears that refused to stop coming. "When Bobby first called me he said that it would be a few days with you and Sam. One job, one time, and then that would be it." She stopped, shrugged, and smiled again. "What the _hell_ happened?"

This time, Dean laughed and stood up. He left the manuscript behind and slowly crossed the room until he was standing before her. His hands came up and rested on her shoulders for a moment, then slowly slid down her arms, and took hold of fingers.

"You know, I used to tell Sam all the time that I never wanted to be with anybody," he began. "That it I couldn't stand the idea of bringing somebody into my life and all the crap we do…" Dean's eyes slid up to hers and held there. "But you were already in it. I wasn't risking you in any way. You knew the dangers, you'd been hunting for years. But then, Zechariah showed up..."

"I told you before and I'll tell you again," she said. "I don't blame my cancer on you. Zechariah would do anything to get you to say yes. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Dean looked away from her when she said the angel's name and Kena instinctively reached up and ran the back of her fingers across the stubble on his cheek, hoping the touch would bring him some kind of comfort. He closed his eyes and leaned into the contact.

"There," he teased, gently. "Now, was that so hard?"

Kenna tried to glare at him, but couldn't hold it well enough to hide the smile that wanted to poke through. The two of them smiled at each other for a long time, seeming to enjoy the quiet moment, but reality began to set in again.

"I'm dying, Dean," McKenna whispered. "And I have so…_so_ many hang-ups."

"So do I," he offered. "I've been to hell too, you know."

"It's different," she argued.

"But a little the same," he countered with a playful shrug.

Kenna smiled. "You're impossible, you know that?" She gently pulled her hands from his and slowly moved away. Her wandering gaze quickly landed on the door. It was a clear, straight shot. All she had to do was take off running and never look back. It would be so much easier that way. It would be better for everybody…everybody but her.

Just as she had told Sam, McKenna was broken in every way. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. But, she'd always wanted to be healed.

Maybe Dean was the one person that could do that for her…

Suddenly, her mind was clouded with other things, and judging by the expression on Dean's face, he had immediately picked up on it. He looked at her for a long moment, and smiled sadly.

"Babies first?" he asked. He wasn't angry. Not even disappointed. Just…understanding.

"I have to know, Dean," Kenna nodded. "I have to know that first."

"Okay," Dean nodded, stepped forward, and tenderly cupped his hands on either side of her face. He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. He was surprised when McKenna didn't pull away. In fact, she didn't even flinch. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and let out a long, contented sigh.

"This isn't over," he said, pulling back and playfully pointing at her. "We'll head out whenever you're ready. I'll go start packing the Impala."

"'Kay," McKenna murmured and the two parted. He wanted to kiss her lips, but Dean settled for her forehead, though this time, he lingered much longer than he normally did.

Suddenly, Kenna reached out, grabbed his hand, and didn't let go.

"Dean, wait," she whispered, playfully. He looked at her, and blinked, unable to take his eyes off her lips as they moved again.

"You still owe me some chocolate," she said, and then pushed him out of the room. The door slammed behind him and Dean found himself standing out in the hallway, alone. He glanced back over his shoulder and groaned.

"Damn woman."

**-Ugh! I'm really struggling with this romance stuff. I'm not at all used to writing in that genre, so I'm a little unsure about this. So please let me know: REVIEW! More to come!Love you guys! -Leigh**


	47. Chapter 47

"Hey, Kenna?"

She lifted her head from at the sound of her name and found the younger of the Winchester brothers staring at her from the doorway. She had been packing up her duffel bag and hadn't even heard Sam enter the room. He looked haggard and weak, almost dead on his feet.

"Sam, are you all right?" she asked and rushed forward to help him sit down on her freshly made bed. "What is it?"

He made no motion to speak, but instead simply placed the papers that Dean had given him earlier on the mattress beside him. He stared at them for a long, silent moment, but then his gaze wandered up to her face. His hand came and touched her cheek for a moment.

"You had the perfect life in there, Kenna," Sam whispered, referring to what little he'd read of Chuck's manuscript. "To tell you the truth, if it had been me…I would've stayed. I know it would've been selfish but…if Zechariah had laid out the perfect vision of my dream life on a silver platter for me like that, I would've grabbed it. I wouldn't have cared who or what I had to give up. I would've taken it."

Kenna smiled sadly at him for a moment and gently pushed the hair out of his eyes. Sam could say that all he wanted, but she knew him better than that.

"No," she argued, softly. "You wouldn't have."

A lone tear slid down Sam's cheek and he pulled Kenna into a tight hug. The woman in his arms had given up the life she always deserved. A life with a beautiful home, a loving husband, and a beautiful baby girl. And she had given it all up because he hadn't been there to live it, too. Given the disease that had been thrust upon her because of him and Dean, the two words he was about to say would never be enough for what she'd done for him. But right now, they were all he had to offer.

Sam gripped her tighter and whispered into her hair, "Thank you."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"You want to steal the car again?" Dean asked as he tossed McKenna's duffel bag into the trunk. "That's fine, babe, but I don't think that you asking for it first really qualifies as 'stealing'."

McKenna smiled and playfully slapped his arm, careful not to get anywhere near his stitches.

"But, I thought you wanted to get back to Bobby's," he countered, gently.

"I do," she said. "But there's something I want to do first."

"Are you good to drive?"

"Yeah, Sam just gave me my shot."

He jerked his chin at her. "You packin' anything?"

Kenna turned around and lifted up the hem of her shirt a bit, revealing her favorite gun and a tiny patch of bare skin. Dean closed his eyes and bit off a highly dramatized groan. McKenna turned back and slapped his arm again.

"All right," he conceded, smiling and finally handed her the keys. "Just be careful, all right?"

Kenna nodded as he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, his fingers tangling against her gun. McKenna's eyes searched his and found no threatening trace of urgent lust there. The tender hand against her spine slowly eased her one step forward and he placed an undemanding kiss on her cheek. Then, he completely released her.

"Be careful," he said again.

"I will," she promised.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Ten minutes later, as the sun began to set, McKenna pulled into the parking lot of the local church. She climbed the high stone steps to the huge front door and quietly slipped into the sanctuary. The silence followed her as she slowly eased down the aisle, towards the front, and into the confessional. She barely had to wait any longer than a few minutes before she heard the Priest climb into the little adjacent room. He slid back the little wooden door on his side, leaving nothing but a black, lace-like screen to separate them.

"Good evening, my child," the priest whispered, and Kenna could see his lips moving through the screen. Based on the sound of his voice alone, he seemed to be in his early to mid forties, definitely older than her, but not ancient by any means either. The tone of his voice was gentle and soothing, and it immediately put her at ease a bit.

"Umm, okay…Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," she began. "It's been…umm..." the rest of the prayer was unknown to her so it trailed off to nowhere and she didn't even attempt to start it again.

"All right, listen, can I be honest with you, Father?" she asked.

"Sure," the priest answered, quickly. Kenna vaguely saw the priest push his lower lip out and shrug his shoulders. It seemed to be a very un-priestly gesture and she couldn't help but smile.

"I'm not Catholic," she began. "And the only reason why I'm here is because this is the one and only church in this whole town, but I believe in God and I pray so…"

The priest offered no objection and even shrugged again. "Personally, I don't think God really worries about what roof you're under, as long as you're in a place where He is Lord."

Kenna grinned. "Oh, I like you," she whispered.

The priest chuckled and inched closer to the screen. "Perhaps you're not in need of confession, but if there's anything you'd like to talk about, my ears are always open."

McKenna dropped her gaze forward and she stared at the carpet for a long time. She licked her dry lips and tried to swallow, but her dry mouth refused the attempt. "I don't even know where to start…"

"In my experience," the priest whispered. "The beginning is usually best."

Kenna smiled, softly. She really liked this priest. "I umm…recently found out that I might have had a child."

"You're not sure?"

"It's a long...well, _very_ long, complicated story, but…no. I'm not sure."

She heard the priest shift in his seat and let out a sympathetic sigh. Somehow...he knew.

"I assume that…this child was not willfully conceived?" he asked.

"You're assumption would be correct," Kenna agreed.

"I'm sorry," the priest offered, gently. "I truly am."

"Thank you, Father. That means a lot to me," she whispered. "Anyway, because of what I've been through I've spent most of my life fighting to protect others from what happened to me. I do the best I can to protect the lives of the innocent."

"That's wonderful," the priest said. "I will sleep better tonight knowing that you're out there keeping us safe."

"That's just it, though," Kenna said, sullenly. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to do this…I also recently found out that I have cancer."

She heard the priest let out another sigh. Her words clearly broke his heart. "Oh, my child—"

"Why does God allow such bad things to happen, father?" she asked, tearfully interrupting him. "And I've never been much of a 'why me' person, but…" she paused, looked up the low ceiling for a moment, and then spoke through it. "Why me?"

The priest leaned closer to the screen, his fingers lifting up to gently touch the lace. "I will never understand why God does some of the things He does, my child. I'll never know the answers to so many of life's difficult questions, but…I still believe that He has an ultimate plan for everything. I believe with all of my heart that He will repay you for all the pain you've been through, even if the only solace ever you receive…is in heaven."

McKenna looked down at her trembling hands. Her palms were wet from the tears streaming down her face.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "I mean, I finally have people in my life that care about me. And I care about them. They're people that I don't want to leave. One person...especially." She paused for a long, pensive moment. She took a deep breath, but it still wasn't enough. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, father."

The priest looked at her through the screen and a smile tugged at his lips. "My child, I think you are, by far, the strongest person that has ever walked through those doors. You've already survived things that I know I would never be able to. In fact, I doubt most would have given up long ago…but you haven't. And I don't believe you _ever_ will."

Kenna smiled through her tears at the priest's kind complement. That small, gentle encouragement was exactly what she needed to push herself through.

Without another word, McKenna rose to her feet and reached out to take hold of the door handle "Thank you so much, Father," she whispered. "For everything."

"I'd like to say that I'd look forward to seeing you again, but something tells me that I won't," the priest said.

"Yeah, I'm leaving tonight," she answered. "There are some things that I have to take care of."

"Another life to save?"

"Yeah," Kenna chuckled, wryly. "Maybe my own."

"You will be in my prayers, my child," the priest promised.

"Thank you, Father," Kenna said. "Goodbye."

McKenna walked away from the confessional, out of the church, and climbed behind the wheel of the Impala. She reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror.

For just a split second, she saw her own reflection.

_Hmmm…_

For the first time, the little girl in the mirror didn't look quite so broken.

**-More still coming. Please continue to review. Love, Leigh**


	48. Chapter 48

"Hey there, sweetheart," Bobby whispered into McKenna's hair when she dropped to her knees before his wheelchair and enfolded herself into his hug. She hadn't even realized just how much she missed him, but now that she was back here in the only place she really called home…it was a wonderful feeling.

The young hunting trio had driven all night and finally arrived at Bobby's around three in the morning.

"Okay, so let's get started with the DNA tests and everything. What do I do?" Kenna asked as she pulled herself out of Bobby's grasp. "Who do I call first?"

"No one, sweetheart," Bobby answered. "It's the middle of the night. It can all wait until morning."

Dean stepped up close behind her and placed his palm against her spine, gently leading her towards the stairs. "You should get some sleep," he said, softly and leaned in closer to her ear. "Come on. I'll tuck you in."

Kenna smiled at him over her shoulder and the two headed upstairs. Bobby watched them for a moment, but his hot glare quickly settled on Sam.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on them, boy," Bobby said, referring to Dean and McKenna's proximity.

Sam bit his lip and lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug. Bobby growled and slowly wheeled himself into the living room, cursing the name of Dean Winchester the whole way.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"You okay?" Dean's tone was gentle and soothing as he tenderly tucked McKenna into her bed. He ran his fingers through her hair, letting the long blonde strands fall onto the blanket below.

"Tired," she sighed. "And worried about tomorrow."

"I know you are," Dean said. "But try to get some sleep. You're not going to be alone tomorrow. You've got us."

Kenna pulled an arm free from beneath the blankets and threaded her fingers through Dean's. He looked at their joined hands for a long moment, realizing that it was the first time that Kenna had really initiated any substantial contact between them.

"What do I do if they start asking questions about other things?" she asked, quietly. "I mean, I'll tell them who I am. I'll tell them that I was there, but…I will _not_ start talking about what the Brothers did."

"That's fine, babe," Dean whispered and squeezed her hand. "As far as I can tell, you shouldn't have to. They're not building a case because there's no one left to press charges against. The only person who's truly alive from the Compound is you, so I think the cops are just doing this to lay the…" he paused and closed his eyes for a moment, his tongue catching bitterly on the next few words. "To lay the babies to rest."

McKenna traced her fingertip over a faint scar on the back of Dean's right hand. She had so many of her own scars, some of them Dean hadn't even seen yet, but somehow she knew that when…_if_ he ever did, he wouldn't mind. But like she'd told Dean the night before, she had a few other deeper scars to heal before she moved on.

Kenna looked up at him as tears filled her eyes. "Will you do something for me?" she asked.

"Anything," Dean answered.

"Will you…will you take me to the Compound tomorrow?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Kenna, you don't have to go there," he argued, gently. "They have everything you need down at the cop shop. There's no need for you to—"

"I have to, Dean. For me," she whispered. "I don't why but…I do."

Dean looked at her for a long moment, knowing that there was no way to argue with her anymore. He knew Kenna, and once she had her mind made up, there was no talking her out of it. He didn't understand why on earth she would want to go back there, but it wasn't his place to ask questions.

"Of course I'll go with you," he finally promised.

"Thank you," Kenna whispered and her eyes began to droop closed. Dean ran his fingers through her hair again and slowly released his hand from hers. She looked so young and small when she slept, so similar to the little girl in the picture that Bobby had shown them. The corners of her lips gently curved up as he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"Sweet dreams, babe," Dean whispered and left the room, sadly knowing it was an empty wish.

**-I'm sorry it's so short today, but it's all I could do. **

**Tomorrow's will be a little difficult to do (you'll see why when you read it) so I'd love some extra encouragement. Please review. All my love, Leigh**


	49. Chapter 49

The next morning McKenna gazed out the window of the Shelby as Dean drove across the new bridge. "Thanks for taking the Shelby, Dean," she said, smiling.

Dean lovingly slid his fingers along the steering wheel and smiled. "Well, the poor girl hadn't been out in a while, so I figured she deserved it."

"And the fact that I'm letting you drive?" Kenna questioned.

"Small perk," he grinned with a shrug.

Following McKenna's directions, Dean crossed the bridge and pulled off onto a small dirt road, doing his best to steer the car around the deep, muddy potholes. He drove another mile before he finally reached the big metal gate she'd mentioned. She pointed to a large padlock hanging from the latch.

"Looks like we're walking," she said and climbed out of the car.

"You sure you're hope for that?" Dean asked.

"It's not very far," Kenna answered. "I'll be fine."

Dean locked the Shelby, shoved the keys into his pocket, and took Kenna's hand as the two pushed through the thick brush surrounding the sides of the gate. The road continued on through a thick pine forest, each of the trees in numerous pin-straight lines that seemed to go on for miles.

For McKenna, even the trees brought back dark memories.

The endless lines of trees were every child's dream factory. The perfect place for playing Hide-And-Go-Seek. But Kenna and the rest of the girls were more familiar with a different game, one called Hide-And-Pray-They-Don't-Find-Us. But they always did.

_They always did…_

About a hundred feet ahead, the road widened, the forest parted, and quickly gave way to a large clearing. The main building in the center was a huge warehouse, one obviously meant to hold tractors and other farm equipment, or maybe even a large number of livestock. But all it ever held was innocent lives crushed under a dark fist of evil.

There were a handful of other smaller outbuildings, each and every one of them holding tragic secrets of their own. Behind one of the small sheds, Kenna noticed the flash of yellow crime scene tape surrounding a large mound of loose soil.

"Do you think that's where...they found the babies?" McKenna choked out.

"I guess so," Dean answered and squeezed her hand. "But you don't need to go over there."

This time, his words were an outright order, one that Kenna was actually glad he'd made.

She hadn't been here since the day of the raid. Her feet hadn't treaded this soil for over seven years, but now she was back. And somehow, except for the few lingering traces of rust and time, everything looked exactly the same.

"This isn't enough, is it?" Dean asked, though it wasn't really much of a question. "You can't just stand here and look at the buildings. You need to go inside, too."

McKenna almost smiled at how well Dean knew her, but instead she simply looked at him and nodded.

"Well, I'm coming with you," Dean grunted and held up a single finger to silence her when she tried to speak. "No arguments."

Kenna rolled her eyes in protest, but eventually stepped forward, pulling him along with her to the main warehouse. Her hand went up and reached for the large metal handle on the door and pushed it open. The bottom edge of the heavy metal door scraped along the cement floor beneath, sending a loud, obnoxious scraping noise into the air. Kenna winced at the familiar sound and closed her eyes until the last echoes of it finally faded away.

The poured cement floor only continued on for another few feet before it turned into a hardwood floor that covered the rest of the huge, open room.

"It's a chapel," Dean said suddenly, his words echoing and bouncing off the tall, cathedral-like walls. He released McKenna's hand and began to make his way down the long center aisle between the large lines of church style pews.

"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Kenna said. "The aisle, the pews…" She lifted her hand and pointed to the front of the room. "The alter and crucifix. That's exactly what they wanted people to think, Dean. That they were just a fringe church group. A group of Christian monks that just wanted to live and worship off the grid, away from the evils of the outside world."

Dean reached up and ran his hand along the altar, tracing his fingers over the words engraved into the wood. _In Remembrance Of Me._

He had never considered himself a very religious person, but Dean couldn't stand it when people used the word of God to make excuses for the sick things they did. He pulled his hand away from the altar's surface, almost feeling a stinging sensation rise up throgh the wood and bleeding into his fingertips.

Evil was heavy here, like a weighty veil that hung in the air, ready to fall down and smother everyone who entered the door. Even with all the demons and evil spirits he'd worked with over the years, Dean had never felt oppression this dark before. It was like a serpent coiling around his heart and sucking out every trace of light that may have been there before. And he'd only been in the Compound for ten minutes.

_Kenna was here for ten years…_

Dean took a few steps back from the altar, unable to be near it and the disgustingly ironic words engraved upon it. The back of his heel caught on a small hole and nearly tripped him. He looked down and noticed a tiny metal pull-up latch in the floor below.

"What's that?" he asked.

"There used to be a big rug covering it up," Kenna said, her voice low and monotonous, almost as though she were in a trance. She slowly stepped forward, leaned down, and tugged on the latch, pulling open a large trap door.

"Do you have a flashlight?" she asked, and Dean immediately pulled one out of his jacket pocket. McKenna took it and shined the light down into the deep hole below. There was a metal ladder leading down into its depths and she quickly stepped below, onto the top rung.

"Kenna," Dean called and gently took hold of her arm. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

She looked up at him and almost smiled. "Yes, I do."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Once they reached the bottom of the ladder, Dean followed McKenna down a long dark hallway. The close cement walls on either side of Dean's shoulders were stained with dozens of faded orange splotches, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were all blood.

Kenna finally reached the last stretch of the hallway and the large metal door standing at the end of it. For a long moment, she simply stared at the outer surface of the door, unable to move, unable to even breathe. She knew what lay on the other side, remembered the nightmares like they'd happened only yesterday, but if she wanted to finally close the door to her past, she had to open it, first.

Knowing Kenna couldn't do it on her own, Dean helped her pull the heavy door open and began to slowly follow her inside when she stopped short. Without turning back to look at him, McKenna blindly reached back for his hand and Dean immediately threaded his fingers through hers.

"There used to be a light switch…" Kenna mumbled, sliding her hand along the cement wall until her fingers hit what she was searching for. She flipped the switch and the large room was instantly flooded with light.

A stainless steel surgeon's table stood in the middle of the room with a barrage of rusty surgical tools and branding irons surrounding it.

Kenna tugged Dean closer until his body was brushing up against her left side. He looked at her eyes, watched them fill up with unshed tears, and tenderly wrapped his free arm around her waist.

"They used to use all of these on us," she whispered and reached up to touch the tools. "I never really knew which was worse. Lying here on the table myself, or being in the bunk room down the hall, hearing the other girls scream."

Kenna's fingers brushed against the branding iron dangling from a hook on the edge of the table. She pulled it from the hook and laid it out on the table, touching the design on the brand's head. Dean recognize the familiar pattern and his fingers slid carefully beneath the waistband of Kenna's jeans. She gasped when he gently touched the scar on her hip and closed her eyes in shame when he looked at her.

"It's funny," she chuckled, bitterly, her hands now tightly clutching the brand. "This didn't hurt as bad as—"

"Kenna," Dean whispered, gently stopping her, though he wasn't sure if it was more for her or for himself.

He watched as she suddenly pulled away from him and picked up a few other tools, some penknives, and some razors, even a meat cleaver. Each of items were fully capable in causing the scars that Kenna wore on her shoulders and back. So far, they were all that he had seen, but somehow, he knew that there were probably others. He wondered why the tools were still here, why the police had never taken these things away. Perhaps the whole Compound had been cordoned off as an ongoing crime scene and the hadn't wanted to disturb anything. Or maybe they had never even found this underground hell. He couldn't be sure.

All he knew was the he wanted it all gone.

"I wanted to kill them," McKenna whispered, angrily. "There were so many times that I would lay here on this table and try to get up. I wanted to grab the tools they were using on me and turn them around and just _murder_ them. But the drugs numbed me and I couldn't move."

Dean stood close behind her as he reached around to grab the branding iron. He placed it back in her hands and pressed his lips close to her ear. "But you can move now."

"Damn right, I can," Kenna growled.

Her chest heaved as she gripped the brand, brought it up over her head, and slammed it down onto the table. The other tools vibrated across the surface with each hit until they clattered to the floor in a heap. Dean took a few steps back, giving her all the room she needed to get rid of her rage.

It was an incredibly emotional scene, one most people wouldn't have been able to handle, but Dean felt honored to be there to witness it.

Kenna continued to wail away on the table, taking her anger out on her captors, the demons that had taken her from a loving home, caring parents, and the life she should have had. The life she truly deserved.

She had been forced to grow up faster than anyone ever should, forced to become a surrogate mother to the younger girls she had taken under her wing. Forced to possibly carry innocent, unborn children that would never have a chance at life.

Kenna wasn't doing it just for herself. She was doing it for her parents and for every innocent life that had been cut short on these hellish grounds.

Finally, she threw the branding iron across the room and overturned the heavy, steel table using only her bare hands, and sent it flying across the room with strength that neither she nor Dean knew she possessed.

At last, McKenna fell to her knees, her body and soul completely and utterly spent. She looked so small, so weak...

Dean saw her body begin to wrack with tears before he actually heard her sobs, but it only took him two quick strides before he was right there with her. He dropped to the floor and pulled her tiny, trembling body into his arms and let her cry.

Before he could stop them, a few of his own tears joined hers in a puddle on the blood stained floor below.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean and McKenna slowly emerged from the dreaded Cellar, passed through the chapel, and back out into the sunshine. Kenna felt better and lighter than she had in…forever...and she was fully prepared to completely walk out of the Compound, get into the Shelby, and drive away for the last time.

But something within her said that simply wasn't enough.

She wanted this place, the building, the land, everything, completely obliterated.

The demons might be gone, but there was still evil here. She could feel it living in the walls, within the trees, even within the ground beneath her feet.

They had nearly reached the gate again when McKenna turned back and looked at the Compound. "Dean?" she whispered.

He stopped and looked at her. "Yeah?"

Kenna took a deep breath and sighed. The corners of her lips turned up in a tiny smile for just a fraction of a second. "I want to torch it," she said.

Dean's eyes shifted from her, to the Compound, and back again. He smiled, softly. "Sounds good to me, babe."

It took only moments for them to grab the supplies they needed from the trunk of the Shelby and the couple quickly separated to cover more ground. McKenna took on the main building, the chapel and the Cellar, while Dean tackled the outbuildings and sheds. They doused everything with kerosene, making sure there was at least one long trail of the liquid connecting them all together so it would all go down at once.

Kenna went back down the ladder, gazed into the destroyed Cellar for a moment, and subsequently turned her back on it for the last time.

Outside, on his way into the last shed, Dean noticed a glint of something metallic shining through the floorboards below. He pulled up the rotten board, and smiled at the familiar object he found there. He shoved it into his pocket and saturated the little building with kerosene before heading back outside.

He met Kenna in front of the main building, making sure they were standing at least a thousand feet back from the large structure.

In a final act of tribute, Kenna knelt and placed a small handful of salt on the ground over the puddle of kerosene and sprinkled a few drops of holy water over it. She looked up at Dean and smiled sadly. "Just in case there's anyone or anything still here," she shrugged.

Dean smiled, helped her up, and pulled her into his arms. The couple embraced for a long time before Dean pulled a small matchbook from his coat pocket.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he asked and handed it over to Kenna.

Her fingers were trembling as she took the matchbook from him, but quickly retrieved a match. She pinched one between her fingers and swiped it along the bottom of the book. A tiny flame ignited on the tip of the match and for a long moment she stood there and watched it burn. Just before the flame reached her fingertips, she let the match fall to the ground and land in the kerosene puddle below. The fire instantly took wing and quickly spread, following the trail of liquid she and Dean had left behind.

The tiny fiery river reached the main chapel first and it immediately burst into flame. The smaller sheds were next and they quickly followed suit. Soon, the whole Compound and everything within it was engulfed in flames.

McKenna stared at the fire for a long time and Dean saw the reflection of the flames bounce off the unshed tears in her eyes. He smiled as he watched her tilt her head back and close her eyes. A small smile appeared on her lips as she finally allowed the tears to flow.

This wasn't the end.

It still wasn't over and they both knew it. There was still more to deal with, much more to get past, but it was, at least, a good start.

Dean reached down, gently threaded his fingers through hers and together, they watched the evil and darkness that had engulfed McKenna's past begin to burn away.

**-This was an incredibly difficult chapter to write. This whole storyline and the subject matter within it, is something that hits very close to home for me, so the whole experience has been extremely meaningful...**

**Please review. -Leigh**


	50. Chapter 50

As soon as they were safe in the Shelby and back on the road again, McKenna pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

"Yeah, hi, my name is uh…" Kenna's eyes glanced at Dean for a moment while she tried to think of a good fake name. He shrugged his shoulders and she was forced to blurt out the first one that came to mind.

"Janis Joplin."

Dean rolled his eyes and impatiently tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as he continued to listen to the rest of Kenna's pointless emergency call.

"Yes, my name _is_ Janis Joplin," she reiterated. "What? Yes, that's a real name… Anyway, I was just driving by on Route 4, just across the bridge, near the ravine and there's a bunch of smoke coming out of the woods. It looks like a pretty big fire and I think it's coming from that old religious settlement back there."

Kenna paused and glanced back in the passenger's side mirror to admire her fiery handiwork. Huge billows of smoke were still rising from the center forest and she couldn't help but smile.

"So yeah, you might want to get the fire department out there, because that place is _really_ burning to hell." With that, she hung up the phone and slid across the seat towards Dean. He lifted his right arm, wrapped it around her shoulders, and smiled.

"Janis Joplin?"

Kenna pinched his hand. "Shut up."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"So, you're McKenna Stevenson," the police officer questioned the moment McKenna and Dean entered the police department.

Kenna nodded and he body tensed up, already on edge. The tall, dark haired man stepped closer to her and looked her up and down.

"You know, I'd love to know how and why you're the only one that got away from that God forsaken place, sweetheart," he said, clicking his tongue.

"And I'd love to why you're asking," Kenna countered. "_Sweetheart_."

Behind her, Dean stifled a harsh chuckle. The officer switched his gaze to Dean and looked him over, too.

Dean wasn't happy. And it was up to McKenna to keep the peace. She glanced at his badge and read his name.

"Officer Rhodes, I was told to come in and give a DNA sample," she said, officially directing the officer's attention back to her. "I'd like to do that. _Now_. So I can get out of here."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Rhodes asked.

"Why do _you_ keep asking questions?"

Dean snorted again at Kenna's words and was forced to physically remove himself from the situation. He squeezed her arm in a parting gesture, and went to wait for her in the lobby.

"I called ahead on my way here," Kenna began. "And I was told that all I was coming in for was to have you swab the inside of my mouth with a Q-tip. I'm not here to satisfy a rookie cop's sick curiosity."

Officer Rhodes placed his hands on his hips and glanced at the floor, pursing his lips together. "All right, fine. Have it your way. This way, please."

He led McKenna into his office and sat down to watch him remove a few cotton swabs from a plastic bag.

"You just showed up outta nowhere, huh?" Rhodes asked, leering at her. "I heard that you hightailed it outta here when you were fifteen. And nobody but Bobby Singer's ever seen you since."

Kenna said nothing, but opened her lips and allowed Rhodes to swipe two of them on the insides of her mouth. Once that was done he placed them in a small vial and shoved that into another baggy.

"So, what finally brought you out of the woodwork?" Rhodes asked.

Kenna looked at him for a moment, unable to understand how he could ask such an insensitive question. As if he didn't know.

"One or more of the dead babies you found could possibly be mine," she answered, hotly. "Kinda seemed like something worth looking into to me."

Rhodes nodded with a grunt, seemingly satisfied with her answer, but apparently, he wasn't. "I wasn't on the force back then, so I studied up as much as I could on the case, and you know, it seemed kinda funny to me that with something as big as this, there's not much evidence left," he stated. "Most of it's gone. Supposedly, it was all destroyed in an 'accidental fire' about six or seven years ago."

"That's fascinating. Will that be all, Officer?" McKenna asked and made her way towards the door without waiting for an answer.

"Ms. Stevenson, wait," Rhodes called. He placed his hands on his hips and took a few steps forward, the long, slow strides clearly meant to intimidate her, but Kenna stood tall and refused to back down.

"You might've noticed that the secretary and I are the only ones in the office today," he began.

Kenna nodded.

"Well, that's because the rest of my boys are out helping the fire department put out a raging inferno in the woods outside of town."

"Somebody forget to put out their campfire, Officer?" Kenna questioned, innocently.

"Nope. Your old home away from home went up in flames earlier this morning," he explained.

"The Compound?" she asked, feigning interest. "Hmm…that's too bad."

Rhodes stepped closer and leaned around her to gaze out his office door at Dean. "You and your boyfriend out there wouldn't know anything about that now, would you?"

Kenna looked up at him and smiled, sweetly. "No, sir. I don't know a thing. I usually like to keep to myself and stay _out_ of trouble these days."

Officer Rhodes looked at her for a long moment, squinted his eyes and stared sharply into hers. Kenna wondered if he knew she was lying.

Yes, she'd done a lot of things she wasn't necessarily proud of, among them was burning down the town's previous police department and stealing any and all evidence of her time spent at the Compound. But it had all been in the name of avenging her fallen sisters, gaining information about the demons, and covering her tracks.

"All right then," Rhodes finally conceded. "Let's keep it that way."

"So, will that be all?" Kenna asked again.

The officer nodded.

"And when do I find out the DNA results?"

"Well, providing no one burns the lab down, it should be no more than a week or so," Rhodes answered with a self-impressed sneer.

Kenna frowned. This man was nothing more than just another obvious example of why she didn't like, or respect law enforcement. Every once in a while, she actually wished that certain humans were demons.

_Oh, the things I'd do to you if you were, Officer Rhodes…_

"All right, thank you," McKenna said. "I'd greatly appreciate a call as soon as the results are in, please. No matter what they are."

Officer Rhodes smiled, condescendingly and held out his hand, but Kenna refused to take it. Instead, she simply turned her back on him and left the room. She was smiling at Dean and exiting Rhodes' office when she felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out, looked at the screen, and her face fell.

"Babe, what is it?" Dean asked.

Kenna looked up at him and frowned. "My doctor."

**-I hope you guys still like this. A little "something" might be happening in the next chapter... :) Please review...Thank you! -Leigh **


	51. Chapter 51

Dean closed his eyes against the sight of watching McKenna slowly drag herself out of the car. She hadn't said a word since she'd gotten off the phone with the doctor. She hadn't even said goodbye to him when she'd hung up the phone and turned off the speakerphone. She'd simply slipped the cell back into her pocket and climbed into the car.

And this time, she drove.

Dean could still hear the doctor's last words:

"McKenna, I've been watching the samples from your last blood tests and the cancer's spreading much faster than we thought it would. I'm sorry…but you only have four to six weeks left to live…Maybe even less."

_Maybe even less…_

That was one month, maybe. One and a half, if she was really lucky.

None of them had noticed any great deterioration in Kenna's health. After the first initial side effects from her daily treatment had subsided, she'd been able to eat well and stay active.

Or at least as active as Sam, Dean, and Bobby would allow, anyway.

But they had all forgotten one thing: the treatment was only promised to make her comfortable. It was never meant to heal her. It was never meant to be a cure. The doctor had said that time and time again, but somehow, they had all forgotten that.

Even Kenna.

She had been doing so well. Feeling so…_okay_ that half the time she forgot she even had cancer. Except for the one night when Dean was hurt and she'd gone too long without one of her shots, she hadn't even really felt sick.

_But now…_

McKenna glanced at the clock on the wall when she entered the foyer at Bobby's house. She was due for another shot and Sam was already waiting for her in the living room.

"Hey, Kenna," he said, smiling. "How'd the—"

Sam didn't even get a chance to finish as Kenna brushed passed him and headed upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother to look at him.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked as his brother entered the house. "What's wrong with Kenna?"

At the mention of the words "Dean", "wrong", and "Kenna", Bobby wheeled himself into the foyer and right over to Dean.

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" he demanded. Upstairs, Kenna's door slammed shut and Bobby looked up at Dean. "Boy, if you broke her heart, I swear I'll break your _legs_!"

Bobby was already backing up and preparing to ram his wheelchair directly into Dean's knees when he finally managed to speak up. "Bobby, wait! No, Kenna just got a call from her doctor. He says the cancer's spreading and she's only get four to six weeks left to live."

The elderly hunter instantly stilled. His hands trembled as he brought one up to cover his face.

"Maybe even less," Dean added quickly, though he didn't even know why.

"No," Bobby whispered. "My little girl…"

Sam looked at Dean, his eyes already filling up with unshed tears. He suddenly turned his back, went into the living room, and came back with Kenna's treatment kit. His foot was already on the bottom step, ready to go upstairs and administer the drug, when Dean reached out and stopped him.

"Sam," he whispered. "Can you…" Dean's chin trembled and he swiped a quivering hand down his face. "Can you let me do it, please?"

Sam looked down at Dean's outstretched hand for a long moment, hesitating to give up the syringe. This was his thing. His one, personal connection with Kenna. Dean had her heart, yes…But Sam had her health.

And friendship.

He finally looked up and gazed deep, into his older brother's eyes. They were shiny…and desperate. His shoulders dropped in defeat as he gently placed the syringe in Dean's hand and quickly reminded him how to administer the medication. Dean thanked his brother with a simple pat on the arm and headed upstairs to Kenna's room.

He found her alone, sitting up on the wide windowsill, her knees pulled up to her chest. He reached up and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with a smirk. One of the only things that were really noticeable about Kenna's illness was how cold she always was, and right now she must've had the heat in her room cranked up as high as it would go.

Dean closed the door behind him and slowly crossed the room, shedding his jacket and flannel shirt as he went. It was so warm, he would've taken off is t-shirt too if he didn't think it would freak her out.

The window was high, nearly coming up to his chest, and he couldn't help but wonder how Kenna had managed to climb onto it in the first place.

He looked out the window, following her gaze, and saw a waning billow of smoke still rising from the woods a few miles away.

McKenna finally looked away from the window and looked down at Dean. Her eyes slid over his and settled on the tiny bump beneath his t-shirt. Her hand went there and her fingers gently skidded over the cotton-covered gauze, her gaze silently asking how his stitches were.

"I'm okay," he whispered, and began to tie the tourniquet around her upper arm. He opened the little kit that Sam had given him and swiped an alcohol wipe over her the inside of her elbow. He then collected the amber liquid from the tiny vial, tapped the syringe, and inserted the needle into her vein.

Kenna grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and hissed. One small tear slid past her lashes, and for a moment, Dean wondered if he might shed a few as well. He could easily understand how she could never do this, herself, but he could _never_ understand how Sam was able to do it for her.

Clearly, his little brother's desire to help Kenna feel better overrode his guilt about hurting her. And for that, he had Dean's utmost respect.

Only when the medication had been administered and Dean was properly discarding the used syringe the way Sam had told him to, did McKenna finally speak.

"I feel like I'm in mourning," she said, tearfully and speared her fingers through her thick hair, pushing it back, away from her face.

Dean knew the answer, but he asked the question, anyway. "For what?"

She looked down at him and watched as he finished cleaning up. "It's stupid," she whispered.

"Why?" Dean questioned, knowing she wouldn't be able to actually say what she was talking about. But he knew.

_The baby. _

"It's stupid, Dean," she said, again. "I mean…how can I miss something I never even had?" She sniffed and wiped away a wayward tear. "Something I might not have had at all. Heck, I don't even know yet…"

Dean looked up and watched as Kenna reached down and subconsciously ran her fingers over her stomach… Before he could stop himself, he was walking towards her, needing to get to her as fast as he possibly could.

Kenna looked up at him, knowing right away what he was going to do. Her chin trembled and tears streamed down her face. She watched his eyes settle on her quivering mouth.

"Please, don't kiss me. Please, don't kiss me. Please, don't kiss me…" she was begging, but her lips were already parting and her face was tilting up towards his.

"Please don't ki—"

Dean silenced her hollow request and his lips finally clung to hers.

Kenna's hands clung to his shoulders, hurting him at first, but then they only pulled him closer. Eventually, one even went up to his chin to hold him there. Her lips moved against his, parted slightly, and so did Dean's, but he never pushed it any further than the way they were currently adhering together.

His hands went up and gently cupped the sides of her face as he continued to kiss her. Never in his whole life had he experienced something so sweet, so whole. It was a kiss that completely overwhelmed him in its sensual nature, yet his mind never left the moment, never even came close to thinking about the bed that was so close by.

Kenna whimpered against Dean's lips, wishing that she'd never allowed this to happen, but hoping that it would never come to end. But like all good things, it had to.

Dean slowly pulled back and rested his forehead against Kenna's. She let out a long, heavy, tearful sigh. "I hate you…"

Dean smiled. "No, you don't."

Kenna laughed through her tears and gazed up at Dean. For a long moment, neither one of them said anything. But eventually, Kenna finally broke the silence.

"What do we do now?"

Her question was an open one, yet it didn't have very many answers. She was a woman living on borrowed time, and they both knew it. When Dean answered, it was mostly a lie.

And they both knew it…But somehow, neither one of them cared.

"Whatever we want, babe," he finally said, smiling. "Whatever we want."

**-AAAAHHHH! That was THE hardest thing to write...EVER! I've NEVER written a kiss scene before, so I have no idea how this came out. PLEASE review!**


	52. Chapter 52

_Learn to Salsa dance. _

_Witness a solar eclipse. _

_Climb Mt. Everest. _

_Write a script for a TV show. _

_Run a marathon. _

_Learn sign language. _

_Start a band._

_Learn to yodel. _

_Go skydiving._

_Drive a racecar. _

_Visit the Great Barrier Reef. _

_Go to Stonehenge._

_Learn how to knit…_

McKenna smiled as she stared down at the old faded piece of paper in her hand. Her Bucket List. She had written it when she was fifteen, shortly after she'd first escaped from The Compound. She had carried it with her all the time, whether it was in her duffel bag, glove compartment, or even in the back pocket of her jeans.

She'd pulled it from her coat pocket as she climbed out her bedroom window to sit on the roof. Kenna thought of when she was a teenager and how every night, she used to wait until Bobby was in bed, and would quietly sneak out of her window and go out onto the roof. She could remember lying on her back and staring up at the stars.

It was a beautiful view.

Some of the items on the list were doable, but many of them were completely out of the question, whether she was sick or not.

She'd never climb Mt. Everest or visit the Great Barrier Reef simply because of finances. The yodeling thing would just be annoying. And she'd never learn how to knit or do sign language because she just didn't have the patience.

Visiting Stonehenge and going skydiving was completely out of the question, too.

_Good Lord, do I hate flying…_

Kenna took a good hard look at the list and laughed.

"What's so funny?"

McKenna turned and looked over her shoulder as Sam shoved his wide shoulders through the open window. It took a few minutes and some major wriggling around, but he finally poked through and joined her on the roof.

"Wow, I didn't even know you could do this," Sam said as he settled himself next to her. "Were you out here to see the sunrise this morning?"

Kenna scoffed. "Yeah, right. Me, getting up that early? I don't think so, Sam."

"Well, what are you doing out here?" He jerked his chin at the crinkled, yellowed paper in her hand. "What's that?"

"My bucket list," she smiled, shyly. "I wrote it a long time ago."

She carefully handed it over to him and watched as he read it. His eyes scanned over the whole thing, reading each and every word. Sometimes he'd stop and smile and more than once he'd point to something and say that he'd always wanted to do that, too. At one point he laughed out loud.

"Find bigfoot?"

McKenna shrugged.

"Kenna, you're a hunter," Sam chuckled. "You know bigfoot's fake."

"I don't know that," Kenna argued, smiling. "Call it an unknown animal, the missing link, or some hairy hippie dude wandering around, out in the middle of woods, Sam, call it whatever you want…all I know is there's something out there."

Sam smiled.

"And at one point in my life, I wanted to find that mother," she concluded.

"Well, what would you do with it?" Sam asked. "Kill it?"

Kenna reached up and slapped his arm. "No! That's horrible. What if it's an endangered species or something?"

Sam held up his arms in mock defense and tried to offer an apology.

"I'd just take pictures or video tape it," she continued. "And then I'd keep the evidence to myself. I wouldn't want a bunch of scientists getting a hold of everything just so they can go kill and dissect the hairy thing."

Sam looked up at her and grinned. "You're really somethin', you know that?" he said softly.

"It's been said." She smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers.

"So, Dean was in a pretty good mood this morning," he said, suddenly. "He was singing in the shower."

Kenna blushed and for a moment she was almost tempted to ask what song, but decided to leave some things to the imagination.

"I'm guessing you had something to do with that?" Sam asked. He nudged her with his elbow and winked.

"Sam Winchester!" Kenna squealed and smacked his arm again, but couldn't even begin to hide her smile.

"I'm just kidding," he said, taking his hand in hers. "I'm glad you're happy. You both really deserve it."

"Thank you, Sammy," McKenna whispered, leaned over, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Sam returned the kind token with one of his own and then carefully placed the fading list back in her hand.

"So...what are you going to do with that thing?" he asked.

Kenna took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. "Honestly? I don't know, Sam," she shrugged. "I'm trying to keep a positive outlook on things. I mean given what we work with, and all we've seen…it's possible that I could still get a miracle."

Sam looked up at her and smiled, knowing she was right.

"But I'm also needing to be realistic and follow my instincts," she added.

"And what do your instincts tell you?" Sam asked.

Kenna closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, and turned her face away from him. She looked out over Bobby's property, saw the Impala and Shelby parked below. She watched a pair of white, fluffy clouds roll across the sky, saw the sun shining, the birds chirping.

She took in the lovely view of the woods, and the lack of billowing smoke. According to the local news this morning, the fires at the Compound had finally been confined around four am. Supposedly, the fire department had found physical evidence of arson, but it had all disappeared after a "strange man with dark hair, blue eyes, and wearing a tan trench coat" was seen walking away from the smoky scene.

"My instincts tell me that nothing on that list is ever going to get done," Kenna finally whispered.

Sam squeezed her hand and smiled sadly. "Well," he whispered. "Maybe you should make a new one."

McKenna instantly looked up at Sam and a slow smile spread across her lips. "Thank you, Sam," she whispered. "I think that's a great idea."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna spent at least an hour alone, on the roof, working on writing up a new list. She didn't even accept when Dean shouted up an offer to help him work on the Impala.

"What are you doin' up there?" he called from the driveway.

"Nothing," Kenna answered.

"Yes, you are," he argued. "You're writing something."

"Why, that's very astute of you, Dean," Kenna said, teasing him. "I'm proud of you."

"Come on down here," he called. "Please?"

Kenna leaned forward and gazed down, past the edge of the roof to look at him. "I don't feel like getting all greasy, Dean."

"Oh, come on," he pouted. "I bet you look good all covered with engine grease…"

McKenna smiled and her cheeks turned pink as she sat back and began to fold her new list into a paper airplane. She firmly pressed the last wing into place and gently tossed it to Dean. The plane slowly drifted toward the Impala and got caught on the collar of Dean's t-shirt. He reached back, over his shoulder and took hold of the paper.

"Is this a note?" he called up to the roof.

"Open it," Kenna said simply and proceeded to climb back into her room.

Dean did as he was told, unfolded the plane, and began to read:

_Go camping._

_Read the whole Bible, Genesis to Revelations._

_Fly a kite._

_Go to Roswell._

Dean lifted his gaze as McKenna made her way down the front steps. "Roswell?"

"Keep reading," she said, and smiled.

_Overcome my fear of clowns._

_Get drunk…just once._

_Make out in the back of the Shelby._

Dean pointed to the piece of paper, looked up at Kenna, and grinned. "Oh, I like this one, babe."

She stepped closer and placed a tiny peck on his lips. "We'll talk about it later. There's one more left."

_Go hunting one last time._

"Kenna…" Dean said, a subtle warning in his tone.

"I'll be careful," she promised and hesitantly reached up to allow her fingers to play with the front of his shirt. Dean smiled at Kenna's insecurity towards him. He understood it, respected it, but also found it incredibly endearing.

"It could be dangerous," he argued, gently, and reached down to cover her hands with his. "And you could get hurt."

"It's a hunt, Dean," Kenna persisted. "They're _always_ dangerous and there was _always_ a chance that I could've gotten hurt."

"Yeah, I know. But now…you're…"

"How many times do I have to remind you that I'm not dead yet, Dean," she reminded him. "So stop trying to kill me."

"I'm sorry," he whispered and gently ran his fingers through her hair. He looked into her eyes, pulled her closer, and kissed her. Kenna instantly went under in a maelstrom of sensation and couldn't have stopped it if she tried. She'd never allowed herself to believe that she could enjoy this, least of all with Dean. His lips tenderly bit at hers and he ran his palm down the center of her spine, methodically gathering her hips against his.

Kenna gasped and pulled back.

"Sorry," Dean said again, realizing he'd gone a little too fast. "I guess it'll take a little more time before we start climbing into the back of the Shelby, huh?"

McKenna chuckled softly and nodded. "And don't try to distract me," she scolded, gently. "I _am_ going on one more hunt, Dean. And that's final."

With that, Kenna released her hold on him and walked back into the house.

Dean smiled.

He hated to see her go, but loved to watch her leave.

**-Please review...Thank you! **


	53. Chapter 53

Early the next morning, Sam's fingers were flying across the keyboard of his laptop as he brought up pages upon pages of backed up case files.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked McKenna without looking up from the screen.

"Positive," she said. "So, what do you got?"

Sam skimmed the screen with his eyes, going back and forth from one job to the other, trying to pick between his top two choices. Suddenly, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and dug in its claws. He felt Kenna's hair brush across the side of his face as she pressed against his back, and leaned close to his ear.

"And don't even think about picking some little, pansy job, Sam," she hissed. "Do _not_ patronize me on this."

Sam cleared his throat and closed down every single window on his computer screen. Every single one of the jobs he was going over were all simple, basic salt and burns. Cases that would've taken no more than ten minutes. Kenna was smart. And he should have known better.

He pulled up a new search engine and started all over again. After a few minutes spent looking over a few online newspaper clippings, he finally found one that had some merit. And best of all, it involved a family with a small child.

McKenna's specialty.

"Hey, here's something," he muttered, pointing to the screen.

Kenna leaned over his shoulder and followed his finger as Sam read aloud:

"There's a wealthy family in Abilene, Kansas who recently purchased and are currently restoring a twelve bedroom Victorian mansion. They were living in the house for a short time during the restoration, but after a number of 'accidents', they were eventually forced to leave."

"And here comes the good part…" Kenna whispered. She smiled and squeaked out a sound that could only be referred to as a little girl's giggle.

Sam grinned at her and shook his head, happy to see someone who loved the job as much as he did.

"The mother suffered a complete nervous breakdown after spending an afternoon working in the basement," Sam continued. "She had to be physically removed from the house and was put in the mental ward at the local hospital. She was screaming about her son trying to kill her."

"Well, did anybody, at least, look into it before they stuck her in a padded cell?" Kenna asked.

Sam shook his head. "There was no need to," he answered. "The family only has _one_ child…a daughter."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean leaned his left shoulder against Kenna's bedroom doorway as he watched her begin to pack her duffel bag. He shook his head and chuckled as she rushed around the room, grabbing as many things as possible and shoving them into her bag.

"You know, right now I should be asking you a bunch of questions," he said, only half teasing her. "Questions like, 'what the hell do you think you're doing? Are you _trying_ to make yourself die sooner?'"

Kenna looked up at him and glared. Dean lifted his hands and held them up in silent defense. "_But_," he sighed. "I'm not gonna do that."

He pushed himself off the doorjamb and slowly ambled into the room. "Instead, I'm just gonna step back and let you do your thing."

"But, you're coming, right?" Kenna asked. "You and Sam are both coming?"

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. Of course, he was going with her. There was no way he'd let her go alone. He pressed a kiss to her temple and sat down on her bed, continuing to watch her pack for the trip.

"Sam showed me the newspaper article," he said. "And based on that, what are we thinking? Demonic possession, or a spirit that makes people go crazy, or what?"

Kenna shrugged. "I'm more on board with the spirit theory," she began. "It doesn't sound like a typical possession. There's no sign of any black smoke or—"

Her sentence was completely interrupted when Dean suddenly leaned up and covered Kenna's mouth with his own. She gasped into his kiss at first, but eventually found herself smiling against his lips. After a long euphoric moment, Dean pulled back and smiled at her.

"What was that for?" Kenna asked when she had finally caught her breath.

Dean grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. I guess I kinda like hearing you talk shop."

Kenna giggled and slowly removed herself from his grasp, fully intent on hitting the road as soon as possible. If this was going to be her last hunt, she couldn't let anything stand in her way.

Not even Dean.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

Dean stood up and walked back over to the hallway, poked his head out, and grabbed his duffel back from around the corner. It was already fully packed. He glanced back at Kenna and winked.

"Just waitin' on you, babe."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

A trip should have only taken about four hours, had quickly turned into an all day affair. Along the way, Dean stopped at every roadside attraction and tourist trap they came across, all of them at Kenna's request.

"Billboard on the Interstate said this place had the best fudge in the whole country," she said, chomping down on her second piece. "Weren't you guys the _least_ bit curious to see if their claims were true?"

Sam and Dean didn't complain. Not once. Even when they'd stopped to see the world's one and only Cyclops prairie dog, which sadly enough, turned out to be nothing more than a bad example of poor taxidermy skills.

The little pit stops may not have been a part of Kenna's new Bucket List, but the boys decided to pretend that they were. She was living life like a woman who might not see tomorrow.

And the worst part was that they all knew that she was…

Just before dark, the trio reached Abilene and thanks to Kenna's earlier phone conversation with the homeowner, found the mansion quite quickly.

"I still can't believe you just called this guy up and told him who we were and what we do, Kenna," Dean scoffed.

"_I_ still can't believe he believed you," Sam added.

Kenna shrugged. "The guy's wife is in a mental ward and his little girl's having nightmares," she explained. "And it's all because of whatever's in this house. He's…"

She was about to say 'desperate', but as Dean reached the end of the long driveway, and the house came into view, every word Kenna wanted to say was completely knocked out of her mouth.

The newspaper clippings had described the home as an "eight bedroom, Victorian mansion", but in actuality it should have been called a castle.

"Holy…crap…" Sam gasped. Dean muttered something as well as he parked the Impala, though his expletive was a little more colorful.

McKenna climbed out of the back seat and Dean snuck a kiss while Sam's back was turned.

"What was that one for?" she whispered. Dean just shrugged and made his way up the front steps.

"Good Lord," Kenna mumbled to herself. "I wasn't even talking shop that time..."

"Are you McKenna?" a voice called from around the left side of the porch. She looked up and saw a well-dressed man in his early thirties getting up from the porch swing around the corner. He should have looked much younger than he actually did, but given his current situation, it wasn't surprising that he didn't look as well as he probably used to.

Kenna followed Sam and Dean up the front steps and they each introduced themselves.

"I'm Neal. And you three must be the…_hunters_," he said, his expression turning sour on the word. Apparently, he was having some trouble accepting the whole concept.

"If you don't mind, we can sit and talk on the porch," he said, and cast a wary glance at the large front door. "I don't umm…I don't go in there anymore."

Sam, Dean, and McKenna followed Neal around the side of the porch and found a seat. Neal began to tell his story of everything that had taken place at the mansion since the day they'd bought it.

Kenna couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a grown man break down in sobbing tears, but Neal did just that.

"I was on my way home to tell my wife, Emily that we were leaving," he sniffed. "I could hear her screaming the second I got out of the car. I ran down to the basement and found her curled up in the corner. Our daughter, Sophie was so scared that she locked herself in the hall closet…"

Kenna reached up and placed her hand on the man's shoulder. The simple touch seemed to give him just enough strength to continue. "Emily was on the floor, screaming her head off and covering her eyes. I heard a _voice_…whispering, saying something about a boy, a son. Emily kept screaming and wouldn't let me come anywhere near her…I had to call the cops. She's been in the mental ward at the hospital for four days now."

"Neal, the newspapers said something about Emily talking about her son," Sam ventured. "I thought you only had _one_ child."

Neal nodded his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. "We do," he said. "But we almost had two."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"About a year ago, we found out Emily was pregnant," Neal said. "It wasn't expected, but we were both very happy about it. Anyway, when Emily was about four months along, she was on her way home from a doctor's appointment. She had just found out the sex of the baby and she was so excited that she accidentally ran a red light…"

Sam, Dean, and McKenna each dropped their gazes to the floor. They didn't need to hear the rest of the story in order to understand the ending.

"The accident was pretty bad," Neal murmured. "Emily survived, but…we lost the baby."

"I'm so sorry," Kenna whispered.

"Me too," Neal agreed. "Because Emily was going to tell me that the baby was a boy."

Dean took a sidelong glance and Kenna and noticed that her hands were shaking. If he had known the case was going to involve something like this, something so close to home for her, he would've put his foot down and simply said no. But it was too late for that now. Now Kenna was clearly involved and there was no way he could ever get her to walk away from this case.

Dean closed his eyes and blindly reached for her. Without any further prompting, she took his hand and squeezed it tight.

"Neal, is it possible that you and your wife are just still mourning for the loss of your son?" Dean asked, respectfully.

"Of course, we are," he agreed. "But I'm not crazy. I heard that voice in the basement, and there was no way in _hell_ that it could have known about our son."

"Why's that?" Kenna asked.

"Because Emily and I never told _anyone_ that the baby we lost was a boy."


	54. Chapter 54

Neal left the house as soon as darkness began to set in.

"This place really comes _alive_ at night," he said, chuckling nervously. "You can have any one of your pick of the twelve bedrooms and eat whatever you want. Thanks again, guys. Good luck."

He didn't even offer another handshake. Instead, he simply turned his back, got into his car and peeled out at the end of the driveway, without even looking back.

"Well…" Sam muttered. "That was…vaguely _ominous_."

"Eh, we've handled worse," Dean chuckled and affectionately smacked his little brother's shoulder. "Let's get inside and start checking things out."

Sam smiled. "Wow, that's very mature of you, Dean," he chuckled. "Given the house, I expected you to suggest we play hide-and-seek."

Dean headed to the front door and grinned. "Too late. Kenna's already inside, hiding. I'm supposed to be counting to one hundred."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed Dean inside. "Seriously, dude. She's the female version of you."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

After an hour or two of exploring and playing, Sam decided it was time to get down to business. He grabbed his EMF detector and favorite shotgun, while McKenna led Dean upstairs to check his stitches. She took him to her chosen bedroom and gently helped him remove his shirt. Dean did his best to keep any comments about his lack of clothing and their close proximity to himself.

"I think these are ready to come out," Kenna murmured as she gathered together all the equipment she needed. She held up a pair of tweezers. "Do you trust me?"

Dean nodded. "With my life."

Kenna dabbed his chest with an alcohol wipe and carefully began to cut the stitches. Dean winced a few times, but finally relaxed once Kenna proceeded to remove them. The stitches easily slipped free from his skin and thankfully, didn't bleed very much. Dean looked up at Kenna and watched her hard at work, noticing how her eyes stayed focused on the task at hand. She bit down on her lip as she worked hard to tug another stitch free.

Unable to stop himself, he gently slid his right hand up the outside of her thigh and let it rest against her waist. He instantly remembered when he, Sam, and Bobby had found her in the bottom of the creek bed. Dean had picked her up and carried her to the Impala. He hadn't felt the hard, jagged point of her hipbone then. It had just been soft flesh and subtle, yet generous curves in all the right places.

_Back before she was sick…_

Now, her jeans hung too low on her barely-there hips, and her ribs gently poked out, through her skin. Dean let his finger inch up, under the hem of her t-shirt just enough until he could finally feel skin.

A tiny, surprised sound exited Kenna's parted lips and she looked away from her work for a moment. "What are you doing?" she asked, quietly.

Dean smiled. In his mind, 'What are you doing?' didn't mean, 'Stop that'. His fingers continued to move, softly running down until they slid over the brand left behind from her horrific time at the Compound.

This time Kenna stopped and glared down at him.

"Sorry," he whispered, but didn't remove his fingers.

"I really don't understand your fixation with that thing, Dean," she muttered and gently removed another stitch from his skin. She glanced down at the floor in shame. "It's so ugly..."

Dean gently ran his thumb over the ridges of her mark. "How can it be ugly if it's a part of you?" he asked.

Kenna's glare slowly faded away and morphed into something resembling a smile. "You know, for someone who doesn't enjoy any chick flick moments, Dean, you certainly are pretty good at creating them."

"I kinda like it," he continued, completely disregarding her sarcasm. "It's kinda like a tattoo. Or a birthmark, maybe..."

"Dean—"

"It's a lot like like mine."

Kenna's movements paused, leaving her hands and the tweezers within them, floating in mid air. She hadn't ever thought of how Dean might have connected the brand on her hip with Castiel's handprint on his shoulder. She hadn't really seen any correlation between the two marks before now. More than likely, it was simply because she didn't want to. She looked down at Dean and almost smiled.

Kenna carefully removed the last stitch, cleaned the tiny holes left behind, and replaced the old bandage with a new one. She gently pressed the gauze down with medical tape and subconsciously eyed the scar on Dean's shoulder. Her hand trembled slightly as it hovered, back by her side.

"It's okay to touch me, you know," Dean said, smiling softly. "I don't mind…believe me."

Kenna closed her eyes for a moment and smiled, despite the gravity of the situation. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were simply supposed to come upstairs, remove Dean's stitches and begin their investigation of the house. That was the plan, and if you had a plan it was usually a good idea to stick to it.

_That's why they called them 'plans'._

Kenna's hand went up and slid over Dean's bare shoulder before she even had time to think about it. The scar beneath her fingertips felt so similar to hers that it was almost uncanny.

"Do you remember?" she whispered.

Dean swallowed and shook his head. "No," he answered. "I remember everything else about hell, but…I don't remember Cas or the other angels coming down to get me. I just remember waking up in a pine box and climbing outta the dirt."

Kenna cocked her head and nodded. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Dean caressed her brand with his thumb, lifting up just enough of her t-shirt so that he could see the top of peeking out over the waistband of her jeans. "Do _you_ remember?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "But I wish I didn't."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I wish you didn't, either."

Kenna smiled sadly and allowed Dean to gently pull her into his arms.

She never thought it would feel good to have a man holding her in his arms, but this was different. This wasn't a man.

This was Dean.

**-More to come. Please REVIEW…Thank you. **


	55. Chapter 55

McKenna left Dean to fend for himself in cleaning up his wound, despite his tempting offer to 'kiss him all better'. She left him alone and made her way down to the basement, passing Sam as he was on his way up the stairs.

"Hey. You sure you wanna go down there?" he asked. "It's an awful lot like a…cellar."

Kenna smiled and reached up to squeeze his shoulder in silent 'thank you'. "I'll be all right, Sam," she promised. "Thanks."

"Okay, be careful. I'm gonna go upstairs and try to do some research on the house and its past owners," he said and handed over his flashlight and EMF detector. "I haven't found anything yet," he explained, pointing to the EMF detector. "But if nothing else, it's pretty dark and creepy down there."

Kenna patted Sam's arm and headed down the stairs with a smile.

_Dark and creepy is what I do best…_

She rubbed her arms against the chill in the air when she reached to bottom of the stairs and a gasp slipped from her parted lips at the sight of the room.

The basement itself was just as big, but twice as empty as the rest of the house. Dozens of small hallways holding little rooms jutted out beyond the huge main room, leaving Kenna confused about where to even start. She subconsciously flipped a mental coin and took off down a long, small hallway, going as far as she could without the use of the flashlight. The tiny corridors and little rooms didn't have their own light fixtures and she was eventually forced to use the flashlight.

She stuck her head into each individual little room, wondering why on earth anyone would build such a maze, if not only to confuse people.

"Why on earth anybody would _ever_ need a house this huge is beyond me," Kenna muttered to herself. "Heating bills, alone must be _insane_…"

As she passed another room, the EMF detector started to beep. Her heart began to race and the hair along her arms and the back of her neck stood up.

She loved this part.

It was the heart of hunting. The charge, the rush of the chase. If it was possible, she loved this aspect of it all almost as much as she did saving people.

Kenna slowly stepped into the room and the movement caused the needle on Sam's detector to spike. It beeped again, getting faster and higher in pitch. Her heart was pounding, blood pumping, and a slow smile curved up at the corners of her lips. Her lungs filled with a nice, warm burn as her breathing began to speed up.

She raised the flashlight, allowing the bright, long beam to sweep back and forth through the empty cement room. This one was significantly larger than the others and had a few big, empty shelves lining the walls.

It was yet another room that served absolutely no purpose.

_Unless you have a ton of crap to fill it with…_

Suddenly, the door slammed shut and Kenna whirled back around.

There was no one there. She was completely alone.

The room was dark, had cement walls, and no windows, and was just a bit too reminiscent of somewhere else…

She rushed to the door and tried to open it, but the doorknob wouldn't budge.

"Sam?" she called and smacked her palm against the door. "Dean?"

She received no answer. They would never do this to her. It would be a cruel, sick joke and neither one of them would even _think_ of locking her in a cold, dark room. Not even for a second. It was her worst nightmare all over again. In fact, the only thing that could possibly make it worse was if someone shoved a clown in the room with her.

"Sam!" Kenna cried. "Dean!"

They would never hear her down here. And given their trust and belief in her skills as a good hunter, they could leave her down here for hours, thinking that she was simply doing her job.

"Sam! Dean! Get me out of here!"

Again…nothing.

"Please!"

Kenna was starting to get nervous now. The large room was suddenly getting a lot smaller. The thick cement walls were starting to close in, squeezing closer and caving in on her until she had no place left to run.

And nowhere else to hide.

The EMF detector flashed and beeped faster and faster and faster…

"Mama?" a voice whispered.

Everything stopped.

The EMF detector completely froze and Kenna's breath caught in her chest.

"Who's there?" she asked, and slowly moved in a small circle, shining the flashlight into each and every corner.

"Mama?" the voice called again and Kenna spun around again. "Mama…"

At last, the weakening beam of light landed on the figure of a little girl. She was huddled in the corner, her knees pulled up into her chest, and a thick, long mass of blonde hair partially covering her face. Judging on her size alone, Kenna guessed that she was about six, maybe seven years old.

Kenna hadn't felt fear while on a hunt in years, but right now, she was shaking with it. She hadn't done any work with a ghost in a very long time. She had focused every bit of her energy on ganking her demons. Her mouth went dry, and her tongue flicked out and swiped over her lips.

_What the crap do you say to a freakin' ghost?_

"Mama…" the little whimpered and a tear slowly slid down her slightly bruised and dirty cheek.

That was all Kenna needed to hear.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered, gently. "It's all right… I'm here to help you."

"Mama…" she sobbed.

"It's all right honey," Kenna said and took a few steps forward. "I'll help you find your Mama."

The little girl's head snapped up, her gaze staring straight into Kenna's soul.

"But you're my Mama."


	56. Chapter 56

"You're my Mama," the little girl said again.

Her statement hung in the air like a hot air balloon just waiting to burst. McKenna's chest hurt. Her lungs stung and a heavy feeling settled deep, into her stomach. Her chin trembled and her hands shook as she tried to keep a hold on the flashlight in her hand.

"What?" she whispered.

It wasn't that Kenna hadn't heard her. In fact, she had heard her just fine. Clear as day, in fact. But she simply couldn't believe it. The words hit her ears, but they didn't continue on into her brain. They didn't connect with the rest of her system and seemed to hover in the air between the two of them.

"Why didn't you want me, Mama?" the little girl asked. She suddenly stood to her feet, her movements weak and slow. "Why didn't you want me?"

Kenna blinked and the little girl was now standing in front of her, just inches from her face. She had Kenna's thick, blonde hair. She had her deep, jewel green eyes. She even had her rounded facial structure. She had everything.

She was completely, one hundred percent McKenna Stevenson, shrunk down to a younger, smaller version.

"Didn't you want me?" the little girl asked, softly.

Kenna glanced back at the door for a moment, searching for a way out, but the girl was already there, blocking her exit.

"I wanted you," Kenna whispered, suddenly.

Unable to stand on her own two feet any longer, Kenna dropped to her knees. The little girl inched forward, her hand stretched out in front of her. Kenna sat back, on the cement and slid across the floor, leaving the flashlight and EMF detector behind. She inched away from the girl until her back hit the wall.

The little girl's tiny hand hovered just above Kenna's face as she slowly reached forward and ran her fingers through her hair.

"You look like me, Mama," she said and smiled.

It was Kenna's smile.

"Who…" Kenna whimpered. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm your daughter," the girl answered.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"Dean!" Sam got up from the kitchen table, leaving his laptop behind, and made his way to the bottom the stairs. "Dean, get down here!"

His older brother immediately came down the stairs, his hand still pressing down the new gauze beneath his t-shirt. "What's up?"

Sam led Dean back into the kitchen and showed him all the information he'd found on the house. "Turns out that people have been going crazy here for years," Sam began. "There's been a lot of people having psychotic breaks, there's been murders, suicides. Hell, sometimes people just plain disappear and are never seen again."

"And apparently it's happening again," Dean stated.

"Looks like it," Sam agreed. "And as far as I can tell, it all stems back to the mansion's first death."

"Which was?"

"A little girl. Over a hundred years ago," Sam explained. "Her name was Savannah. Her father was an oil tycoon and he designed and built the home, himself with the idea of protecting him family from demons."

Dean almost chuckled. "Was he a hunter?"

"Nope, just crazy," Sam answered. "As far as I can tell, the family never had anything to do with demons, hunting, much less anything else involving the Occult. But apparently, that's why the house is so big and why it has so many rooms."

"So, it's kinda like the Mystery House that old broad built in California?" Dean asked. "He thought he could confuse the demons and keep his family safe."

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "But confusing the demons wasn't enough. He eventually took matters into his own hands."

Dean rolled his eyes, mentally preparing himself for whatever batch of crazy Sam was about to dish out. "What'd he do?"

"He hid his family in the house," Sam began. "Well, he locked them away, to be more specific. He locked his wife in their bedroom upstairs and their little girl in one of the rooms in the basement."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and silently wished for a strong drink. "I swear, people are just friggin' _insane_."

"His wife eventually ended up leaving him," Sam went on. "But she left their daughter behind."

"What?" Dean asked. "What kind of mother would run off and leave her child with a crazy guy like that?"

"She only left her daughter behind because she couldn't find her, Dean," Sam explained, somberly. "Her husband wouldn't tell her where he'd hidden her."

He turned the laptop toward Dean and pointed to the pictures on the screen.

"Look, I found some old blue prints and it looks like there used to be even more rooms in the basement before Neal tore them down," Sam continued. "They were all connected and usually locked. The mother searched for days, but couldn't find the girl. In the end, she really had no choice but to leave."

Dean shook his head. He still couldn't bring himself to understand it. No matter how many times he dealt with supernatural evil, whether it was demons, ghosts, vampires, or anything else, it didn't seem to matter.

Humans were always the worst.

"So this dude kept his own daughter locked up in the basement?" he asked, repeating the words again, just to make sure they were true. "And what happened to her? How'd she die?"

Sam closed the laptop and pushed it across the table, almost as though he wanted to separate himself from the horrible information he'd found.

"Well, the dad just kept getting crazier and crazier," he said, softly. "Eventually, even _he_ couldn't remember where he'd hidden his daughter and…she ended up starving to death. And he ate his pistol shortly afterward."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. "Well, at least that's something," he muttered, and stood to his feet. "He, by the way, where's Kenna?"

Sam didn't get the chance to answer. A harrowing scream suddenly filtered up through the hardwood floor beneath their feet. Dean took off before he even knew what hit him, and Sam wasn't too far behind.

"Kenna!"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

The scream tore from Kenna's throat before she could stop it. She wasn't even sure where it came from, but it had escaped from her dry, parted lips, spilling forth her ever-growing feelings of sorrow and guilt.

"You left me, Mama," the little girl said. "You left me at that bad place."

"I didn't know…" Kenna choked. "I didn't know you were there."

It was a lie. Kenna did know. She knew this wasn't her daughter, her son, or any child she may, or may not have had. She knew it was the ghost of the little girl that had grown up here. The little girl that had died so tragically in this basement.

She should've shown Sam what she'd found out about the house, earlier. She should've told him about the crazy dad and the little girl locked within the maze of rooms in the basement. She didn't want to tell Sam that the little girl's spirit was roaming the basement and forcing all the mothers that entered the home to lose their minds…

But Kenna had been stubborn. She didn't want to share her findings with Sam and Dean. She knew that if she had, the two of them would have taken over and never even let her step foot in the basement. She had wanted to do this on her own.

_My last hunt…_

"I wanted to be with you, Mama," the girl whispered.

Kenna's mind wanted to scream that she wasn't this poor little girl's mother. Her brain knew better, but her heart saw something different. Her heart saw the child that she could have had, the child that might possibly have been torn from her womb and literally thrown away like garbage.

The child that she still dreamed of having…

"I wanted to be with you too, baby," Kenna heard herself whimper. "I wanted you."

It was starting. She was starting to lose her mind. And she knew it. She could feel it, but no matter what, she couldn't fight it.

It was too late.

This was her child. Her precious daughter, with her hair, her eyes, her smile.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Kenna sobbed. She rose up to her knees and faced the little girl that looked just like her.

"I wish I'd known," she whimpered. "Because believe me, baby, if I had…If I had just felt you move, or kick, just _once_…I would've run away. I would've run away and taken us someplace safe. I would've taken care of you…"

Kenna heard two pairs of feet running down the hallway, towards the room. They ran past the door, calling her name, begging her to answer them. The voices were familiar, but she just couldn't place them.

"Who's that?" she whimpered.

"No one," the little girl answered and gently placed her tiny hands in Kenna's. "You don't need them. You have me."

She leaned closer and pressed her head against Kenna's chest. Kenna lifted her hand, cupped it behind her blonde head, and held the child closer. The girl pulled back, and blinked Kenna's eyes.

She looked up and smiled Kenna's smile.

"Do you love me, Mama?" she asked.

"Of course I do, baby," Kenna answered, tearfully. "Of course I do."

The little girl smiled and gently ran her fingers through Kenna's hair again. "Then, will you stay with me, Mama?" she asked. "Forever?"

She reached around Kenna's waist and placed a tiny tender hand on the gun beneath the back of her waistband. She pulled and the weapon tugged free. The little girl lifted the heavy firearm and placed it in Kenna's hand, pushing it up to her temple. "Here, Mama."

The double pair of feet passed the door again, and this time one of them stopped. "Kenna?" a voice called. "Kenna, where are you?"

She lifted her head. "Dean?"

"Don't listen to him, Mama," the little girl said. "He doesn't love you like I do…stay with me."

"Dean," Kenna whimpered again. She slowly began to pull herself across the floor, and toward the door. "Dean…"

"Mama, no," the child whispered.

"Kenna!" Dean had heard Kenna's movements and he was pounding on the door now. "Kenna! I'm coming…Sam, get over here and help me!"

"Dean," Kenna said, her voice, and body as well, growing stronger. She placed the gun back where it belonged and pulled away from the little girl.

She wasn't her daughter. She wasn't real.

"Dean!" she cried. "Dean, get me out of here!"

"Kenna?" Dean called. "Kenna, hold on, babe. I'm coming!"

She could hear Sam and Dean scrambling, searching, and trying to find something to break the door down with. She slammed her palm against the door, pounded her fist and screamed, "Let me out! Let me out!"

The little girl was crying, screaming, begging for Kenna to stay with her. She was lonely, afraid, and the Light Lady was coming to get her. Kenna looked back.

_The Light Lady?_

At last, Kenna heard a loud shotgun blast and the door flung open. Sam and Dean reached in, grabbed Kenna, and pulled her across the floor, and out of the room. The trio of hunters lay gasping in the hallway, watching as the whole room filled up with a bright, blinding light. They could hear the little girl screaming, a long low sound that seemed to go on forever.

Suddenly, the whole room expanded with a white, hot light. Dean pulled Kenna beneath him and reached out to shield Sam's face with his hand. They each felt the heat from the brightness, heard the girl scream one last time, and the whole room exploded with light. Then…silence.

Dean looked up first. "Where'd she go?"

McKenna and Sam followed suit. The room was empty.

"She said the Light Lady was coming to get her," Kenna said and burrowed her head into Dean's chest, thankful to be near him again.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, kissed her forehead, and frowned. "Who the hell is the Light Lady?"

Sam lifted his hand and pointed to a crude, heart shaped design etched into the cement floor. At first glance, it appeared to be glowing. He sat up and almost smiled.

"I think her mother finally found her."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Less than an hour later, Sam had called Neal, and told him the good news. Strangely enough, Neal had some good news of his own. His wife was lucid and ready to come home. And of course, none of them were surprised to hear that her miraculous recovery had happened at the exact moment that Savannah had disappeared.

After saying their goodbyes, and wishing Neal and his family the best, the trio of hunters climbed into the Impala, hoping to get back to Bobby's by morning. This time, Sam allowed McKenna to sit up front, while he stretched out in the backseat and quickly fell asleep.

"Kenna?" Dean whispered. For a long moment, she didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him.

"Babe, look at me," he commanded gently, and she finally did. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, only nodded.

"We haven't heard anything about your DNA test yet," he offered. "We're still not sure if—"

"I know, Dean," Kenna said, interrupting him. "I _know_."

Dean stretched his arm across the back of the front seat and gently pulled Kenna to his side. He kept one eye on the road and slowly leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips.

"You know that wasn't your daughter in there," he said, gently. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Kenna said, nodding. "But for just a second…she was."

**-Something BIG...this way comes...**


	57. Chapter 57

McKenna's spine dug into the leather seat in the backseat of the Shelby as Dean's body gently pressed hers down into it.

"Bobby would kill you if he knew we were out here, you know," she sighed around his lips.

"Why just me?" Dean asked. "You're here too."

Kenna disregarded his comment and roughly pulled his mouth back down to hers. She moaned softly, the sound coming from the back of her throat.

Dean smiled. He _really_ liked that noise.

"Bobby wouldn't kill me," she groaned and arched up closer to him.

"And why not?"

"Because he loves me more."

Dean pressed his hands into the leather on either side of Kenna's head and pushed himself up so he could see her better. "What makes you think he loves _you_ more?"

Kenna smiled wickedly and pressed a finger to her chest, playfully pointing to herself. "Dean, you have me all to yourself in the backseat of a car," she reminded him. "Are you really concerned about why Bobby loves me more than you?"

Dean immediately dropped closer and shook his head. "You're right. I don't give a damn about Bobby right now."

Kenna giggled and let out a pleasure filled sigh as Dean kissed his way across her neck. She smiled softly as the moonlight filtered in through the steamy windows and cupped the back of Dean's head in an effort to keep him right where he was. They were both breathing heavily as if they were in the middle of running a marathon.

Kenna moaned.

_But what a fun marathon this is…_

This was an experience she didn't plan to scratch off her Bucket List. It was something that was just too much not to revisit over and over again. And as long as Sam kept his promise about not telling Bobby that she and Dean had taken the Shelby into the woods for a little 'alone time', they'd be just fine.

Dean came back up to her lips and stayed there for a long time, knowing he would never, ever get sick of the taste of her. Dean had enjoyed his fair share of fooling around with girls in the back of cars over the years. Hell, he'd even had sex with an angel in the Impala, but somehow this was ten times better.

He felt like a teenager again. They both had other responsibilities they probably should've been tending to, but neither one of them seemed to care. And the possibility of getting caught was overwhelming, but that made it even better.

But more than anything else, the fact that this was _Kenna_…well, that just trumped everything. Of course, her nervousness and inexperience was incredibly clear, but her effort and willingness to learn, more than made up for it. And it was obvious that she wasn't ready to do anything beyond a heated make out session, but Dean didn't mind.

This was more than either of them had ever hoped for.

While he had her occupied with the pressure of his lips against hers, Dean slowly slid his hands down to her hips and gently gripped them. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans.

Kenna gasped and instantly pulled back. Her eyes were panicked and full of fear. "What are you doing?"

"It's all right," Dean whispered, kissed her nose, and gently ran his thumb along the brutal scar at her hip. Kenna smiled softly, reminded at how and why her brand was so special to him. She hesitantly reached up and slid her hand inside his shirtsleeve until her fingers covered Castiel's handprint.

Dean growled softly and attacked Kenna's neck again.

Suddenly, someone from outside tapped on the window.

Dean lifted his head and gazed down at Kenna, his eyes huge and frozen in fear. He swore softly and rested his forehead against her shoulder, wondering if the intruder would go away if they were quiet enough. Kenna giggled as she reached up to wipe the thick layer of condensation from the window.

It was Sam.

"Oh, dammit," Dean swore again and reached over Kenna's body to open the driver's side door. "Bad timing, Sammy."

"Sorry. Everybody decent?" Sam asked as he kept his back turned and his eyes covered.

"We're good, Sam," Kenna promised, sitting up. "What's up?"

Sam finally turned around and leaned down to poke his head in the door. "Kenna, you just got a call from an Officer Rhodes," he said.

"More like Officer Jerk-Off," Dean mumbled. Kenna frowned at him. Though his frustration was absolutely adorable.

"He said your DNA tests results are in," Sam continued. "He wants to hear from you as soon as possible. I didn't want to…" he paused for a moment, and winked. "_Bother_ you two, but…I figured you'd want to know."

Sam reached over the front seat and squeezed Kenna's knee, silently offering his support in the situation. With that, he closed the door and left them alone.

Kenna's face fell and her body slid down into the seat. Dean ran his fingers through her tangled hair and gently touched her face. "You okay?"

Kenna shook her head. "I'm afraid to call him."

"Do you want me to?" Dean asked.

"No…thank you. But I know it's something I have to do on my own."

Dean nodded and pulled her into his arms. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He also knew that she would never say anything unless he came right out and asked.

"What do you want?" he questioned, softly. "Do you want one of…the babies to be yours?"

She looked at him for a moment. No one had actually asked her that, so she hadn't really even thought of it. Is that what she wanted? Did it really even matter anyway?

_No, of course it doesn't. _

Kenna buried her face in Dean's chest and a tear slid down her cheek. "It doesn't matter what I want, Dean," she whispered. "It's too late, isn't it? The babies are already dead."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

For the first time, Officer Rhodes was polite, even kind to McKenna when she returned his call a few minutes later. She could still feel a pleasant tingle on her lips from kissing Dean earlier, but she couldn't allow herself to enjoy it right now. She quickly accepted Officer Rhodes's offer to come in and receive the test results in the morning, but she wasn't looking forward to the night ahead.

Kenna hung up the phone and headed upstairs as quietly as possible, careful not to wake up Bobby. She and Dean were stupid to think that they could hid anything from him and they would probably receive quite the tongue lashing, come morning. But she really didn't care. Kenna was an adult and could do whatever she wanted. Plus she only had a limited amount of time to do it anyway.

_Of course, it's a husbandless, childless time, but whatever…_

By the time Kenna reached her dark bedroom, the tears were falling freely. She slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. She climbed up onto her windowsill and allowed the moonlight to bathe her in its healing glow.

Kenna would never get married, never have kids, and never get to scream the dreaded, but beloved words, "Because I said so." She lifted a hand and wiped the moisture from her cheeks.

Down below in the driveway, the Shelby's windows were still foggy and a slow smile came to her lips.

Maybe she didn't have a husband or children, but she had this.

And this was more than enough.

Behind her, Kenna heard a soft knock on her bedroom door, but didn't turn to see who it was. After the knock, it opened for a moment, and quickly closed again. She heard the sound of bare feet crossing the hardwood floor, and step as close to her as the windowsill would allow.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You ask me that question a lot, you know that?" she chuckled, softly. She felt him smile into her hair and press a kiss to her temple.

"I'm sorry our 'alone time' was interrupted earlier," she said, blushing. "Maybe I can make it up to you later?"

Dean grinned. "Your test results come first, but I'll hold you to it."

Kenna smiled softly and pulled Dean up onto the windowsill with her. It was a tight fit, but they made it work. Dean pulled her back against his chest and watched her close her eyes.

"Kenna, no matter what happens tomorrow," he began. "It doesn't change anything."

He hoped she understood how much he really believed that. Even more, he hoped she understood just how much she meant to him. If he thought it'd matter, he'd tell her that she was different. That she was the first woman he'd ever met that made him want to give it all up. Give up the hunting, the angels, the demons, the damn Apocalypse.

If it'd matter, he'd even tell her that he'd drop his badass, macho man, I'm-fine-on-my-own attitude, and pick up a wedding ring instead.

If he thought they'd have a safe future without Cancer, Lucifer, and Michael he'd give her the farmhouse with the picket fence, and all the kids she wanted. Hell, he'd even throw in the ones he secretly wanted, himself.

It seemed so ironic, so damn _tragic_ that the only children she might ever have were already dead. And even worse, there was no happy ending to this story, either.

If one or more of the kids were hers, she'd have to mourn for them, and even if none of them were hers…she'd still have to mourn for them.

It was a no win situation, no matter which way you sliced it.

Dean looked down and found Kenna fast asleep, her head resting against his chest. He smiled softly and pulled her closer, needing to feel her body move against his with every breath she took. None of them knew how much longer she had, but Dean knew that he wanted to spend every waking, and now sleeping, moment with her until she was gone.

In the end, the only things he'd have to show for his time spent with Kenna would be a handful of memories, but somehow…that was enough.

**-I'll say it again…BIG things are coming. Lots of love. -Leigh**


	58. Chapter 58

Against Sam, Dean, and Bobby's wishes, McKenna took the Shelby and went to the police department by herself the next morning. She left at least a half hour earlier than she needed to, mainly just so she could drive around and prepare herself for the news. It was hard to do, given the fact that no matter what, the news wasn't going to be good.

She pulled into the parking lot and took the spot closest to the door.

_Just in case I need to run out screaming…_

Her hand shook as it went up to open the door, and continued to tremble as she made her way into the building. The secretary sent her straight into Officer Rhodes office. Apparently, he was waiting for her.

"Ms. Stevenson," Rhodes smiled and stood to his feet with an outstretched hand. Kenna stared at it for along moment, surprised that the man's face didn't crack beneath what appeared to be, a pretty genuine smile. Finally, she reached across his desk and shook his hand.

"Officer Rhodes," Kenna said, nodded curtly, and sat down across from him. A file folder with her name on it lay on the desk in front of her. She fought the urge to reach forward, grab it, and read the results, herself. It would be easier that way. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

_Quick…but still painful. _

Officer Rhodes lowered himself to his seat and placed his elbows on the desk in front of him. For a long, pensive moment he didn't say anything. He looked at her, then allowed his gaze to dart to the window, then down to the file on the desk. After another minute, his eyes finally locked with hers.

Kenna let out a heavy sigh. It was like an awkward first date. Neither one of them knew what to say, or when to say it. Right about now, the waitress would come and break the ice for them, but there was no waitress. There was no restaurant, no date, no nothing.

There was only a police department, a police officer, and a file.

Officer Rhodes pulled at his collar and choked out, "Ms. Stevenson—"

"Just open the file, _dammit_," Kenna groaned, before she could stop herself. Officer Rhodes did as he was told and pulled the file across the desk, and into his hand. He opened it and frowned.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Kenna's eyes grew large and her breath caught in her chest. That "I'm sorry" could mean anything.

"I'm sorry, they're your children and they're dead," or "I'm sorry, they're not your children…and they're still dead."

Either way, Kenna was screwed.

Officer Rhodes removed the top sheet of paper from Kenna's file and slid it across the table to her. Her hands trembled as she took hold of it. She skipped over her name, Bobby's address, and her cell number. She even skipped over her parent's names and her date of birth. She skimmed down until she finally found what she was looking for.

"Negative?" she whispered.

Officer Rhodes nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again. "None of the remains that we found match your DNA. They're…not your children."

Kenna closed her eyes. Her face turned pink and began to heat up. A sudden onslaught of nausea slid into her stomach, accompanied by a chunk of bile rising up into her throat. She took a deep breath, willed herself to calm down, and swallowed.

"Then whose are they?" she whispered.

"We can't be sure," Officer Rhodes began. "We didn't even know who many of the victims were, and those who we did…are all gone now. There's no way of knowing who the…children…belong to."

"Thank you for everything, Officer Rhodes," Kenna said nodding, and stood to her feet, the sheet of paper still in her hand. "Can I take this?"

Officer Rhodes nodded and watched as Kenna turned her back and made her way towards the door. Suddenly, she turned back.

"Officer, is there any way I can get a list of the other girls' names, please?" she asked.

Officer Rhodes nodded, stood up, and led her out of the office and into the file room. It only took him a few minutes to find what he was searching for. The file was huge, filled with names, addresses, and numbers. All of them were for the girls she had spent her childhood with.

"I'll make you some copies," Officer Rhodes said and started the printer. Twenty minutes later, Kenna walked out of the police department with a file of her own.

In retrospect, she would never know how she did it, but somehow, she'd managed to hold back her tears until she was back on the road.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"She's not answering her phone," Dean said as he paced back and forth in front of the window. He crossed his arms, nibbled on his fingertips, checked his phone again, and kept on walking.

"Dude, calm down," Sam urged. "I'm sure Kenna's fine. You know she'd call if there was something wrong."

"And you're gonna start wearing a ditch in my floor, boy," Bobby piped up. "Now sit _down_."

Dean looked at Bobby and pouted, but did as he was told and sat down at the kitchen table. He leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and kept a steady eye on the window. "It's almost dark," he breathed. "Where the hell is she?"

The second the words were out of his mouth, the phone in his hand began to vibrate. It was a text message from Kenna.

_Meet me at the Compound. Now. _

Dean frowned. "What the hell is she doing there?" he muttered and stood to his feet. "Sam, you're comin' with me. Bobby, we'll be back in a little while."

Of course, the older hunter put up a fight, and tried to talk the boys into letting him come, but they refused. It would take to much time to load Bobby up, and based on Kenna's text message, they needed to get there now.

Sam and Dean rushed to the Impala, peeled out of the driveway, and headed to the Compound. Dean wasn't even sure if there would be anything left. He and Kenna had started a fire so massive that it had taken the fire department over twenty-four hours to completely extinguish it. And even more, he couldn't understand why on earth she would want to go back there in the first place.

Dean slammed on his breaks and turned onto the dirt road, while Sam did his best to hold on. In his head, Dean was coming up with worst-case scenarios, dozens of them, hundreds of them. Maybe something had happened. Maybe Kenna had come here to die. Maybe she had her gun and she was going to…

Up ahead, the gate was open, the lock hanging open, obviously unlocked by a key. Dean drove through and passed a cop car.

"Holy crap," he whispered and hit the gas.

"There she is," Sam said and pointed ahead. Dean pulled up behind the Shelby and spotted Kenna up ahead, walking towards what little was left of the main building. And she wasn't alone.

Officer Rhodes was with her.

The two were talking. Kenna was gesturing with her hands, her arms flailing through the air, almost as if she was talking about building something. Officer Rhodes nodded his head, smiled, and shook her hand. Then he waved to Sam and Dean as they passed and climbed into his police cruiser.

Dean ran ahead to Kenna and pulled her into his arms. "Babe, you scared the crap out of me. Are you okay?"

She didn't say a word. Instead, she smiled sadly and handed him a piece of paper. Sam leaned over Dean's shoulder and read aloud. "Negative…Oh, Kenna, I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Dean agreed, and hugged her again, pressing a kiss to her temple . Without another word, Kenna handed them a second piece of paper.

"What's this?" Sam asked.

"It's plans to build a memorial," Kenna answered. "I petitioned the county to demolish everything on the property and build a small park in its place."

She lifted her hands and began gesturing again, just like she had before. "They're going to have trees and some benches, with a fountain in the middle. And then, around the fountain there's going to be stone tiles and each tile is going to have a name on it. One for each girl that lost their life here."

She glanced at the burnt destruction for a moment, noticing the smoke that still rose from the ashes. "And there's going to be a grave marker, too," she continued. "For the four babies that never made it out."

A single tear slid down Kenna's cheek and Dean reached up to catch it with his thumb. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, and pulled her close.

Kenna shrugged. "I don't want people to forget what happened here. I want them to remember that these girls existed." She paused, and closed her eyes on a heavy sigh. "I always wanted to leave some kind of legacy…and I guess this is it."

Dean pulled Kenna into his arms, while Sam rested a hand against her back. She lifted her chin and rested it on Dean's shoulder, gazing over the smoky rubble.

It was done. This part of her life was over with.

What was once so horrible, so disgusting, and evil would be made into something beautiful.

Kenna closed her eyes and smiled. The priest she visited had said that she might not receive any restitution for all the pain she'd suffered until she was in Heaven.

But the priest had been wrong.

She was receiving plenty right now. And as far as she could tell, she was still alive, too.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"No way, babe," Dean said as he leaned down to kiss Kenna goodnight.

"Oh, come on, Dean," she pouted. "I trust you."

"Yeah, well…" He winked. "I don't trust _you_."

Kenna frowned. She couldn't believe that Dean had turned down her offer to stay in her room tonight. And on top of that, he was saying that he didn't trust _her_ to keep her hands to herself. She looked up at him, letting her eyes roam over his body, from the top of his head, all the way down to the tip of his toes. Her fingers tingled and her stomach fluttered with the wings of a thousand butterflies.

_On second thought, he might be right… _

Kenna kissed him one last time, let him leave, and climbed into bed. The day hadn't gone exactly the way she'd planned, but surprisingly enough, she was okay. Her head rested gently against the pillow behind her, and without another thought, her eyes drifted closed…

Kenna wasn't sure how long she'd slept when a sudden burst of light flashed behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes and saw a figure standing in the corner of her room. Her hand immediately shot out, beneath her pillow and brandished her knife.

"You don't need that," the figure said as he slowly took a few steps forward.

"Zechariah?" Kenna questioned.

"No." The figure shook his head.

"Then, who are you?"

The man stepped in front of the window, into a stream of moonlight, allowing Kenna to see him. He smiled.

"My name is Michael."

**-You're all going to tell me I'm evil now, aren't you? ;-) -Leigh**


	59. Chapter 59

"My name is Michael."

McKenna's jaw hung open as she gazed upon the angel before her. Her grip on the knife loosened, but she didn't completely release it. She wanted to ask for definitive proof that he was whom he claimed, but she hadn't enjoyed what happened the last time she'd asked an angel for that.

_Those big, black wings…_

"You're…" she choked. "You're Michael?"

The man nodded.

"The archangel?"

Another nod.

She took a deep breath. "Aren't you in the wrong room?" she asked. "Isn't Dean the one you want?"

The angel nodded yet again.

"Do you _speak_?" she asked, growing frustrated. "I mean, that would really make this a lot easier on me if you would just—"

"I speak," the angel said, softly. He shrugged his shoulders and arched his neck, almost as though he was uncomfortable in the vessel he'd chosen. "What would you like me to say?"

His tone was soft and soothing, yet somehow boomed with a mighty rage of roaring thunder. Kenna's breathing increased. She placed her free hand on her chest, over her heart, and felt it racing. She didn't want to die of a heart attack.

_At least not today, anyway…_

She didn't like how he never moved beyond the moon's pale shaft of light that filtered in through her window. He stayed there, standing tall and still, never moving an inch. For a moment, Kenna wondered if he was even breathing. She couldn't tell what color his eyes were, much less his hair. Her hand tightened on the knife again.

"Are you here for Dean?" she whispered. "Because like I said, if you are, you're in the wrong room."

"I am not here for Dean…this time," Michael answered, simply.

"Then why _are_ you here?" Kenna asked. "And, if you're going to try to talk me into telling Dean to say yes to you, then you can flap your little wings and take off, because I won't do it."

The angel shook his head and almost smiled. "That's something I've always admired in you, Kenna…your strength."

He knew her name, knew her 'strength' as he called it. And apparently, he'd been watching her for quite some time. Before meeting Sam and Dean, McKenna had always enjoyed the idea of possibly having angels watch over her, but now…

Now it was just creepy.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought entered her brain. Her whole body began to tremble and a cold sweat broke out across her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to compose herself. She felt a lone tear slide down her cheek and didn't make one move to stop it.

When she could finally speak, her voice was quiet, almost nonexistent.

"Are you here to finish what Zechariah started?"

The angel smiled again and slowly shook his head.

Kenna still couldn't make out all his features, simply that he was tall and very well built. It disturbed her to think that even Sam would probably have trouble bringing him down. He stepped forward a few inches, but the movement didn't put him into a better, more seeable position. His appearance was still a mystery to her.

"Zechariah was working strictly under his own agenda," Michael said, softly. "I never commanded him to stricken you with any illness."

Kenna scoffed. "So what, then? Are you here to bring me a sympathy card?"

"No," the angel whispered.

Kenna gritted her teeth and growled. "Then why are you _here_?"

Michael cocked his head to one side and frowned, as though she should have already known the answer. "Why, to heal you, of course."

For the second time that night, Kenna was left slack jawed and dumb. She didn't even understand the reason behind the question, but she had to ask it anyway.

"Why?"

Michael smirked and Kenna wanted to hit him. She had never known someone that could make her feel so stupid, so downright brainless with nothing more than a simple facial expression.

"You were never meant to be a part of this, Kenna," the angel said.

"I don't believe you," Kenna argued.

"Why not?"

"Because according to Dean, Cas says different."

"Cas?" the angel frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Ah, _Castiel_. Yes, my dear, sweet, fallen…well, _falling_…brother."

"He may be falling," Kenna said, defending him. "But he's the only angel I've met, so far, that's not a dick."

She closed her eyes for a moment, mentally kicking herself for actually allowing something so crude and tasteless to exit her mouth. Even if it was true. Clearly, she'd been spending too much time with Dean.

"I'll ignore your sentiments toward the rest of us," Michael said, dismissing her comment with a flick of his wrist. "So…Castiel says that you _were_ meant to be involved in this?"

Kenna nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid he's mistaken, because that simply is not true."

"Like I said," Kenna shrugged. "I don't believe you."

The angel nodded and pressed the palms of his hands together, placing the tips of his fingers beneath his nose. He looked at her and smiled, wickedly.

"Would you _like_ to be healed?" he asked, his tone a threatening one. "Or not?"

"That depends," Kenna snarled. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yes, the catch, the strings attached to this little gem you're offering me," she growled. "What irreplaceable part of my soul do I have to give up in order for you to heal me?"

The angel's brow dropped and he stared at her for a long moment, almost as if her words had injured him. His expression changed to a frown, and then to something that she could only describe as a pout.

"Kenna," he whispered. "Child…don't you think you've given up enough?"

Another tear glided down Kenna's cheek. How dare he even _think_ it was okay to say something like that to her?

"You'll have everything you ever wanted," he continued. "You can leave, go on being a hunter, travel all over the country until you're sick of it, or too old to keep going. Then…you can quit."

Kenna gazed at the quilt on her bed, completely mesmerized by the zigzag design.

"You can retire to that Bed and Breakfast you like," the angel whispered. "Die as a happy, independent, old woman…just like you always wanted."

Kenna bit her lip and looked up. "But…I don't want to be independent anymore."

Michael smiled. "But the opposite of independent is…dependent, Kenna. And you always hated that word."

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to be _dependent_, I just…" Her chin trembled. "I just don't want to be alone."

"But you will be if I heal you."

Kenna's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Michael nodded. "If I heal you, you _will_ be alone. Sam and Dean will continue to hunt for a while, tensions between them will continue to grow, and eventually it will all snap…Sam will say yes to Lucifer…and Dean will say yes to me."

"No…"

"Leaving you, Kenna…all alone."

"No," Kenna said again, gritting her teeth. "No, I don't believe you. They will _never_ say yes. Never!"

"Yes, they will," Michael argued. "And you're going to help me make that happen."

Without another word, the angel took the last, few remaining steps towards her bed and stretched out an open hand. Kenna tried to hide beneath the covers and block his healing touch, but he was too fast for her. His big palm came down and cupped itself over her forehead.

Kenna was rendered helpless and rigid as she felt the tingling begin in the center of his palm, coursing through him, and passing into her. It singed its way down the center of her face, past her nose, and over her lips, through the center of her chest. It warmed her heart and she could feel it beating faster and stronger than it had in over a month. Her lungs filled with breath that passed easily through her lips without any extra effort. Her fingers tingled, knees melted, and toes felt like blazing fire.

The current reversed itself, coursed back through her system, and exited her body the same way it entered. A sudden flash of light appeared before her eyes, and the angel finally released her.

Kenna's eyes rolled up, into the back of her head and she slumped forward, her body completely limp.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, hunched over, face down on her bed, but when she could finally move and lift her head again, Michael was gone.

Kenna took a deep breath and pushed herself up. She ran a weak hand over her face and down across her chest. Her body felt none of the constant pain it had grown so accustomed to over the last six weeks. Her chest didn't burn, her head didn't ache, and her whole body felt nothing but peace.

She knew what it meant and the ultimate tragedy it would bring, but she couldn't stop the slow, sad smile that spread across her lips. Eventually, the tiny grin faded and gave way to a barrage of tears.

Kenna was healed.

But now, Sam and Dean were cursed.

**-I'm going to start receiving death threats now, aren't I? ;-) Reviews are love! -Leigh**


	60. Chapter 60

Dean woke from the first good night's sleep he'd had in weeks, thanks to a crackling sound coming from the backyard. He tossed the covers aside and sat up in bed, rubbing his hand across his sleepy eyes. His feet rested against the hardwood floor for a moment, shocked by the icy surface, below. He finally forced himself to stand and walk to the window, gently pushing the curtains aside.

Down below in the backyard, standing beside a roaring fire, was Kenna. She was fully dressed, her head bowed forward, and her hands shoved deep into the front pockets of her jeans.

Something was wrong.

Dean immediately pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed the nearest jacket, and rushed down the stairs, as quickly, but quietly as he could. He stopped in the foyer, just long enough to pull on his boots and took off running, out the kitchen door.

He reached the backyard just as Kenna poured some mineral spirits over the dwindling flames. The fire erupted and she took a few steps back, covering her eyes in the crook of her lifted elbow. She knelt down and picked up her khaki medication bag. Finally, Dean spoke up.

"Babe?" he called and took a few steps forward. McKenna looked back over her shoulder and stared at him, but didn't say a word. He jerked his chin at the bag in her hand. "What are you gonna do with that?"

Kenna almost smiled. "What's it look like?" she asked. "I'm going to burn it."

Her arm shot out and the bag hovered over the flames. Dean reached out and grabbed it. "Kenna, stop!" he said, the words coming out a little harsher than he'd really meant them to. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's okay, Dean. I don't need it anymore," she whispered, and dropped the bag into the flames. It popped and sputtered and quickly disappeared within the fire.

Kenna reached up, took Dean's hand in hers, and pressed it against the center of her chest. Her heart was pounding strong, and fast.

Dean's head cocked to one side and his eyes grew large. "That's umm…" he stammered. "That's…new."

"Yeah." Kenna's chin trembled and she smiled, even as tears began to fill her eyes. "I had a visitor in my room a couple hours ago," she whimpered.

Dean let his hand fall from her chest, and he took hold of her shoulders. He gently pushed her back and even turned her in a circle, as he looked her over. He cupped her face in his hands, turning her head and touching her jaw.

"What happened?" he asked, panicking. "Who was it? Was it Zechariah? What did that angel-bastard do to you?"

"Dean, stop it!" Kenna shouted and reached up to remove Dean's hands from her body. "It wasn't Zechariah."

Dean took a deep breath. "Then…who was it?"

Kenna looked away, and stared at the fire, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Kenna…" Dean whispered, gritting his teeth. "Who…_was_ it?"

She finally looked up, and a tear slid free.

"Michael."

Dean blinked and his eyes danced over the fire. His breathing grew labored and his chest began to heave. He lifted his hands, placed one on his hip, and ran the other down his face. He turned his back on her and began to pace back and forth in front of the flames. Eventually, he turned back to her and rested a gentle hand on the side of her face.

"Did he hurt you?"

Kenna shook her head. "No…he healed me."

Despite the situation, Dean couldn't help but smile. "How?"

"He put his hand on my forehead, zapped me with angel juice…" she paused and shrugged. "And boom. I felt better. I wasn't in any pain or anything. I felt…good. For the first time in over a month."

"So…no more cancer?" Dean asked.

"No," she answered.

It was a miracle. A plain and simple miracle, and he honestly didn't care how it happened. All that mattered was the she was healthy.

Dean's eyes were shiny and bright with hope as he pulled her into his arms and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He began to release her, but Kenna pulled him back in, cupped the back of his head, and sealed her mouth to his.

The kiss quickly deepened and turned passionate as the two stumbled back until Kenna's spine dug into the side of the house. Dean felt Kenna's hands slip beneath his jacket and shirt and run over his bare back. Then she slid them free and doubled her forearms around Dean's neck.

For the first time, he felt her fully submit to him.

He took the opportunity to his advantage and gently lifted her up against the wall. Kenna took the hint and instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips. She moaned against his lips, but it wasn't a sound of pleasure and enjoyment. It was a tragic sound, a desperate plea.

Suddenly, he realized exactly what she was doing. Kenna wasn't begging him to make love to her. She wasn't pleading for him to make her whole again. It was something else, entirely.

She was simply saying goodbye.

Dean ripped his mouth away from hers and gently pushed her away from him. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and closed his eyes, trying to will his body to relax.

"I'm sorry," Kenna whispered. "I don't really know what I'm doing, so…did I do something wrong?"

Dean laughed, bitterly. "No," he whispered. "You were doin' everything right…believe me."

Kenna watched as he turned to face her and his expression said it all. She should have known better than to try and trick him. She should have known that he'd figure it out. She should have known that he deserved more credit.

She panicked.

Without another word, Kenna turned her back and took off around the side of the house, toward the front yard.

"Kenna!" Dean shouted and ran to catch up with her. "Where are you going?"

She ignored his call, kept on walking, and tears began to sting her eyes. His hand reached out and grabbed her arm. His hold was too tight, too abrupt, and she whirled around to face him. Her expression was one of anger and underlying fear. Dean pulled his hand back and immediately offered a silent apology.

He knew better than to grab at her like that.

The movement didn't slow her down very much and she turned her back on him, clearly intent on getting as far away as possible.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked as he tried his best to keep up with her.

"I don't know yet," Kenna answered.

Dean didn't know how they'd gone from making out against the side of the house, to chasing her down and demanding her to stop running, once and for all.

They reached the driveway and Dean noticed that the trunk of the Shelby was open and Kenna's duffel bag was already inside. She had planned this, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would've even bothered to say goodbye in the first place.

Suddenly, Dean reached out, grabbed her shoulders, and pressed her back into the side of the car. He didn't care about how she didn't like to be grabbed. He didn't care about his need to always be gentle with her. Hell, he didn't even care if he was hurting her.

She struggled for a moment, even tried to fight him off, but Dean held strong and refused to let her go. Her efforts to free herself were all in vain and she eventually gave up.

"I'll ask you _one_ more time," Dean growled. "Where are you going?"

Kenna didn't answer his question. Instead, she finally pulled herself free from Dean's strong grasp and shoved him away.

"You're going to say yes, Dean!" she screamed. "You're going to say yes to Michael, and Sam's going to say yes to Lucifer, and I can't watch that happen!"

"No," Dean said, softly. "We'll never say yes, Kenna. I don't know what that douche of an archangel said to you, babe, but we will never, _ever_ say yes."

"Michael said that you and Sam would continue to hunt for a while," Kenna continued. "But, I'll get in the way and tensions between you two will only get worse and eventually, you'll both turn against each other…and you'll both say yes."

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Don't you get it? _You_ changed all that!" he shouted. "Once you came along, there was less tension between me and Sam. We started getting along better than we had in months…and it was all because of _you_."

Dean could tell that his words didn't mater. Kenna's mind was already made up.

She'd been gone before he'd even come downstairs.

"Don't leave," he whispered. "Please, Kenna…_don't_ leave."

"I can't stay, Dean," she sobbed. "I can't stay."

"Why not?" he asked, and stepped forward, reaching up to touch her face and run his fingers through her hair.

Kenna closed her eyes, hating herself for enjoying his touch. She shouldn't like it. She shouldn't enjoy it. She was too broken, too messed up to think that she could ever have a normal life with Dean. Crazy to think that she could ever make him happy. If Michael had shown her anything it was that she could be what he truly needed.

Whether she was healthy or not.

"You deserve better, Dean," she whispered.

His lips pressed together and he had to physically restrain himself from raising his hand to her. He couldn't understand how she could still feel that way, let alone even _think_ it.

"Kenna, you've come so far," he said, gritting his teeth. "Do _not_ go back there again."

Kenna closed her eyes for a moment and she seemed to be taking in his words. Hopefully it would work and she would change her mind.

"No," she whispered. "You have a destiny, Dean. One that I can never be a part of."

Dean gripped the roof of the Shelby until his knuckles turned white. He wondered if Michael had given her more than just angel juice. He wondered if he'd shoved some of their angel-speak into her mouth, as well.

"I thought we both believed in free will," he said. "I thought we both believed that our destinies were what _we_ made them. Was I…was I wrong?"

Kenna didn't answer him. She simply glanced at the ground for a moment, pushed herself off the Shelby, and walked to the driver's side door. "Tell Bobby I love him, okay?"

"And what about _me_?" Dean asked. "Do you love _me_?"

Kenna's watery eyes met his for a split second, and her gaze said what she never would.

Kenna Stevenson loved Dean Winchester.

She opened the door, climbed inside, and started the car. "Goodbye, Dean."

"Kenna, don't do this," he begged one last time. "Don't do this!"

She hit the gas and took off down the driveway, without even one glance back. Dean turned and began to make his way over to the Impala, fully intending to chase her down…but somehow, he knew that even _that_ wouldn't work.

His feet seemed to melt out, from beneath him and he fell forward onto his knees.

_What do I do now?_

He wasn't sure if anyone was listening, in fact, he was sure that no one was, but Dean lifted his head and screamed to the heavens.

"What the hell do I do now?"

**-Something HUGE is coming soon to a computer screen near you...Please review. -Leigh**


	61. Chapter 61

Sam glanced at the kitchen ceiling and shook his head. Dean hadn't left his room for four days, and Sam was starting to get worried.

"How's he doin' up there, boy?" Bobby asked as he wheeled himself into the kitchen.

"He won't leave the room," Sam answered. "Maybe you could go up there and try to talk some sense into him?"

Bobby shook his head and chuckled. "I don't think so, Sam. If I go up there, I won't be doin' much talkin'. I'll be too busy kickin' his ass."

Sam smirked and slowly stood to his feet. He took a few steps closer to Bobby, and leaned down, close to his ear. "Have you talked to her?"

Bobby glanced around the corner, and looked up the stairs. Neither one of them had spoken her name since the night she left, both of them too afraid of what it might do to Dean. Once he was sure the coast was clear, Bobby nodded. "She called me last night. Said she was sorry for worryin' me."

"Did she tell you where she is?' Sam asked.

Bobby nodded again, but didn't offer up any answer. Sam frowned. "She told you not to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, son," Bobby apologized. "She knows you pretty well. She knows that you'd tell your brother and that he'd go bustin' outta here in a second to go get her. Well…she doesn't wanna get got."

Sam closed his eyes on a frustrated sigh, grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen cupboard, and slowly made his way to the stairs. "I'm gonna go check on Dean."

"Sam," Bobby called, softly. "Don't tell him she called me."

Sam nodded and took off up the stairs. He slowed his steps and tiptoed across the hardwood floor when he reached the top. It was the same ritual he'd done for the past four days, every time he ventured up the stairs. His empty hand went up, twisted the bedroom doorknob as quietly as he could, and slowly stepped inside. The bottom of the door pushed an empty whiskey bottle across the floor, and it kept on rolling until it reached the wall on the other side of the room.

An angry groan protesting the shaft of light from the hallway floated up from the bed and Sam closed the door behind him. He stepped around at least a dozen other empty liquor bottles and nearly tripped over a not so empty one. He set the bag of chips on the bed, next to the lump beneath the covers.

"Dean?" Sam called, softly.

The lump didn't move.

"Dean."

"Go 'way, Sam," the lump groaned, and shifted slightly.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to understand what his brother was going through. He could easily remember when he had felt like this, after Jessica died. He had wanted to do nothing but stay in bed and drink away the pain. The feelings in the aftermath were similar, but the situation was different.

This was Dean.

Dean had never been in love before, and as far as Sam could tell, his brother still wasn't admitting that he was, but for Sam, it was incredibly obvious.

And Bobby, too.

"Dean," Sam said, gently. "You can't stay in here forever."

The lump let out a heavy sigh. "She back yet?" it slurred.

"No."

"Then I'm staying right here."

Dean's arm slithered out from beneath the covers, grabbed the nearest bottle, and pulled it back beneath the blankets with him. Sam could hear Dean swallow the last few gulps of whiskey and a few seconds later, an empty bottle was tossed from the bed.

Sam almost smiled. He had really hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but Dean had left him no choice. Suddenly, Bobby's idea of kicking Dean's ass was sounding pretty good.

Sam silently made his way to the other side of the bed and carefully slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the mattress. He grit his teeth, summoned forth every ounce of strength he had, and roughly jerked the mattress up. Dean was catapulted from the bed, his body sent flying across the room until he hit the opposite wall, and landed in a drunken heap on the floor.

His head hit the hardwood floor, but Sam wasn't the least bit sorry. Dean was so wasted that he probably didn't even feel it, anyway.

"Oh, good. You're up," Sam said, and let the mattress fall back to the box spring, below. Dean lifted his head off the floor with a groan. He opened one eye and glared at Sam.

He ignored the silent threat and walked back around to the other side of the bed, picking up an empty liquor bottle along the way. He stood over Dean, lifted the bottle, and sent it flying across the room. It hit the wall and splintered into a million little pieces. Dean shielded his eyes with his hands, and pulled the blanket over his body in an effort to protect himself from the flying shrapnel.

"What the _hell_, Sammy?" he shrieked.

"Do you really think that holing yourself up in this room and drinking yourself to death is gonna bring Kenna back, Dean?" Sam shouted. "Do you really think this is what she'd want you to be doing?"

Dean rolled his aching head back and forth across the floor. "Stop talkin' about her like she's dead, Sam," he growled.

"The way you're acting, she might as well be," Sam argued. "But she's not, so get your ass in gear, Dean, because I'm sick of looking at you like this!"

With that, Sam stepped right over him and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Once again, Dean was left alone.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna gripped her hands around a mug of hot tea and she couldn't help but smile at her ever-returning strength. That morning she had even gone for a jog, something she hadn't done, or should she say, wasn't _allowed_ to do, for over a month. Of course, Maine was cold this time of year, but even that hadn't stopped her from getting outside and enjoying her return to health.

She placed her mug on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers. If it was possible, she liked this Bar Harbor Bed and Breakfast even more than the one she'd named her favorite, back in Connecticut. The ocean bay view was spectacular, and the breakfasts even more so. It was beautiful, perfect in every way…

Until now, late at night when she was getting ready for bed.

It was now when she would miss 'home'. When she would think about Bobby, Sam…and Dean. Now was when she would second guess herself and wonder if she'd made the right decision. Now was when she would want to pack up, jump in the Shelby, and head back to South Dakota.

Her very first night away had brought more than just a newfound sense of freedom. Along with it, her nightmares had returned, and she wasn't even sure why.

Her past had literally gone up in smoke and plans for a beautiful memorial were already underway. There was really nothing left for her to think about it, either way.

Perhaps it was because of Dean. Because he was no longer just across the hall. Now he was eight states away.

A slow smile crept across her lips as a pleasant memory flashed across her mind's eye.

McKenna and Dean had hidden a secret nightly ritual, one that had started when she was in the hospital. Every night he would sit by her bed and read to her. Eventually, he began to lie _in_ bed with her, but always the gentleman, he would stay above the covers.

He didn't read the Bible, a novel, or poetry. He didn't even read the newspaper. No, that just wasn't their style.

Every single night, Kenna would be lulled to sleep by the deep timbre of his voice as he read from Guns and Ammo Magazine. Most people would scoff at their choice of literature, but for them, it was perfect.

Kenna closed her eyes and tried to replay Dean's words in her head, hoping it might help her sleep, but it did no good.

Suddenly, a gust of wind and the flutter of wings filled the room, causing her to open her eyes. Standing, at the end of her bed, was her favorite angel.

"McKenna," Castiel said softly.

She smiled and sat up. "Hi, Cas," she whispered. "Believe it or not, I've kinda missed you."

The angel almost smiled and even took the liberty to sit at the foot of the mattress. His fingers traced over the pattern on the quilt for a moment, almost as if he was curious at how it had been made. He finally looked up at her. "You're looking well."

Kenna grinned. "You can thank your brother, Michael for that."

Castiel shook his head. "I don't believe I'll ever thank Michael for anything," he said, bitterly. "Even your recovery."

McKenna nodded. "I know what you mean," she whispered. "Heck, I'd almost take the Cancer if it meant that I could—"

"Go back to Dean?" Cas said, completing her sentence. Once again, the corners of his lips turned up for a moment. "What if I asked you to go back?"

Kenna smiled. "I don't think so, Cas."

"What if I _told_ you to go back?"

McKenna's smiled instantly turned to a frown. "So now _you're_ telling me what to do?" she asked. "Wow, Cas. I thought, you, of all people would be the last person to boss me around."

"I do not mean to 'boss you around'," he began. "Rather, I have a job for you to do. One that I'm unable to do, myself, at the moment."

Kenna rolled her eyes. "Why? What do you have going on that's _so_ important?"

Castiel shrugged. "The Apocalypse."

McKenna dropped her gaze forward and chuckled. Cas really had a good sense of humor, even if he didn't realize it. Her smile didn't fade as she looked back up at him.

"I'm not saying I'll go, Cas," she began. "But just for curiosity's sake, I'll ask: What is it that you want me to do?"

The angel glanced over his shoulder for a moment, almost as if he wanted to make sure that no other ears were listening. Whether they were angelic or demonic, it really didn't matter. Neither one could be trusted. Just to be safe, Castiel scooted closer to McKenna and dropped the volume of his voice.

"I have found documents of a ritual that might be able to stop Michael and Lucifer from taking Sam and Dean as their vessels," he whispered. "But I need you to take it to them."

Kenna let out a heavy sigh and she looked away, refusing to meet the angel's steely gaze. "How sure are you that it will work?"

Castiel nodded. "It's dangerous, but if it's done correctly, it _will_ work."

McKenna's chin trembled at the thought of going back to Bobby's.

She had left Dean, absolutely abandoned him, and hadn't even looked back. The things she felt for him were things she had never thought she'd be able to feel, and if she hadn't met Dean…she never would have felt them at all.

_Ever. _

"Cas," Kenna whimpered. "I don't know if—"

"Dean told you what I said about you having a greater purpose in all this," Castiel said, interrupting her. "Well, you do. You are the _only_ person that can perform the ritual for Sam and Dean, McKenna."

She shook her head and frowned. "Why?" she asked. "Why only me?"

"It is written: Only one who has suffered great, can save those who are suffering," the angel recited. "The ritual will not work unless _you_ are the one to do it."

So, it was true. All of it. She had been needed all along.

Despite the severity of Castiel's words, McKenna couldn't help but laugh. It was completely inconceivable to her that it was possible, that Cas had been right about it being a part of her destiny.

_A part of Dean's destiny…_

Kenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"All right, Angelface," she whispered. "You win…I'll go."

Castiel smiled, stood to his feet, and was gone with little more than a gust of wind and flutter of wings. Kenna was left alone again, and her gaze rested on the quilt where the angel had been sitting. She looked up and let out a heavy sigh.

"I just don't know what kind of welcome I'll receive when I get there…"

**Two things: **

**1. Today the CW officially released news of a confirmed 6th season for Supernatural. (YAY!!!)**

**2. Somehting HUGE is still coming in this story. **

**Please review your thoughts on both! :) All my love, Leigh**


	62. Chapter 62

McKenna lay awake most of the night, worrying, but as the sun began to crest over the bay, Castiel reappeared at the foot of her bed. Kenna jumped out of her skin and nearly cursed.

"I swear, Cas, I don't know how Dean _ever_ got used to you popping up, out of nowhere like that," she said.

The angel ignored her frustration and held up a stack of yellow, aging papers. "These are the documents I told you about," he said. "This is the only copy and you need to keep them safe at _all_ times."

Kenna leaned forward and took them from his hands, hoping that Sam would be able to help her decipher the meaning when she returned to Bobby's. She turned her gaze back to Castiel, and without warning, he reached up and pressed his hand against her stomach for a moment. Kenna gasped as a quick burn singed along the inside of her ribs.

"Ow," she gasped. "What was that?"

"Enochian sigils," Castiel said, simply. "I etched them into your ribs, just like I did to Sam and Dean. They'll keep you safe."

"Will they hide me from angels, like theirs do?" she asked. "And you?"

"These markings are different," he explained. "They will protect you from anyone and anything that wants to harm you, but I will still be able to find you."

With that, Castiel disappeared, leaving McKenna alone, and unable to ask anymore questions. She winced and ran a hand over her side, wondering if she could actually feel the markings if she pressed hard enough. After a moment, she gave up and decided that it was time to make _the call_.

She dialed, lifted the phone to her ear, and waited for him to answer. It didn't take very long.

"Hi, Bobby," she said, smiling sadly. "Is it okay if I come home?"

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna took her time in getting back to Bobby's. She even stopped another Bed and Breakfast in northern Illinois for the night, along the way. Despite Castiel's constant appearance in the passenger seat and his urging for her to get back to Bobby's as soon as possible, she was just too afraid to really rush herself.

"With all the stupid things I've done in my life, Cas, I've actually managed to never get shot," she said as she crossed the South Dakota state line. "And I'm a little afraid that that's exactly what will happen when I walk in that door."

The angel frowned. "I doubt that Dean would ever shoot you, McKenna."

"Screw Dean," she argued. "I'm talking about Bobby!"

An hour later, Kenna pulled into Bobby's driveway, and Castiel disappeared. She let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, "Oh, that's great. Thanks for the support, there, Angelface."

She pulled up in front of the house and Bobby immediately rolled himself down the ramp on the front porch. Kenna barely had the chance to climb out of the car before he pulled her into a tight hug that all but crushed her.

"Don't you ever pull this crap again, honey. You hear me?" he mumbled into her hair. "I've got a special bullet in my gun with your name on it. Don't make me use it."

Kenna chuckled and straightened up to her full height just before she lifted off her feet in another hug. She wrapped her arms around Sam's wide shoulders and smiled against his neck. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

The younger Winchester brother said nothing and only squeezed her tighter. After a few more seconds, he finally set her back down and released his hold on her. Kenna ducked her head back into the Shelby and retrieved the ancient papers that Cas had given her.

"Here's the stuff I told you about, Sam, if you want to start trying to figure out what they say," she said, and shoved her hands, deep into her front pockets. Her eyes shifted to the ground, refusing to meet either man's gaze.

"So…" she whispered. "Where's Dean?"

Sam and Bobby shared a long look before either one of them actually managed to answer.

"Well, he only rolled out of bed yesterday," Bobby began. "We had a hard few days, there, while you were gone."

"He headed out into the woods this morning," Sam added, quickly. "I think he was planning to do some target practice."

Kenna stood there for a long, sober moment, and didn't say a word. Leaving Dean had been the most selfish thing she'd ever done in her entire life. Not once, had she even thought of what it might do to him. And apparently…it'd done a lot.

"If I go out to see him," she began, slowly. "Do you think he'll shoot me?"

Bobby chuckled and shook his head. "Probably not. But just to be safe, you might wanna take your gun with you."

Kenna took his advice and reached back into the glove compartment again and took out her gun. She gave both Sam and Bobby another hug, and slowly made her way towards the end of the driveway. When she reached the edge of the woods, she turned back and waved.

"If I'm not back in an hour, send help!" she called.

Sam and Bobby chuckled, but they both reached down, grabbed their phones, and prepared 911 at the top of their contact lists…just to be safe.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Dean's lips moved as he silently sang along as the sounds of "Freebird" filtered out of the Impala's open doors and into the air of the surrounding woods. He lifted the nickel-plated Colt 1911 and aimed it at the empty beer cans he'd set up on an old fence post about 50 yards away. He aimed, shot, and didn't even come close to missing.

He smiled softly as the loud boom from his favorite gun echoed off the trees surrounding the clearing. Less than forty eight hours ago, he was still in bed, still raging drunk and nowhere near close to a hangover. Now he was stone cold sober and feeling halfway to okay again.

"But, if I stayed here with you girl," he sang softly. "Things just couldn't be the same. 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird, you cannot change…"

Dean heard someone walking in the woods a few hundred feet away and coming closer, but didn't bother to turn his head to look. He knew who it was, and didn't trust himself to look at her. If he knew anything at anything, he knew that Kenna would look gorgeous, healthy, and if Michael had healed her right, just as curvy as ever.

And if he knew anything else, he knew that there was nothing on earth to stop him from running at her and taking her right there, on the forest floor the very second he laid eyes on her. So, he kept his back turned and took another shot, even as he heard her make her way to the Impala and lean against the hood.

He wondered what she was wearing, as he caught a whiff of her apple-cinnamon perfume. Dean shook a sudden barrage of impure thoughts from his head, aimed, and took another shot at yet another beer can. He hit it, dead on, and sent it flying straight up in the air.

"Nice shot," Kenna whispered.

Dean straightened and barely glanced back over his shoulder, still not ready to look at her yet. "Thanks," he muttered, and shot again.

This time, he missed.

Hoping it was just a fluke, he lifted the weapon, aimed, and shot again.

Another miss.

He cursed softly and pursed his lips together. "You're distracting me," he called over his shoulder.

Kenna scoffed. "I didn't do anything."

Dean swore again and finally turned around. "Yeah, well apparently, you don't have to…" His words faded away as he finally looked at her.

_Damn..._

Michael had done a good job. Kenna was leaning back against the hood of the Impala, sitting just above the grille, her right ankle crossed over left, and her arms crossed over her chest. The dark circles beneath her eyes were gone and her cheeks were no longer pale and hollow. Her blonde hair was thick and wavy again, and her hips filled out every single inch of her jeans.

She was Kenna again. Whole, gorgeous, and healthy.

For the first time in Dean's life, he was rendered completely speechless. He knew what he wanted to say, but was just to prideful to do so. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, fully aware of the fact that she never, ever saw herself that way. She shifted uncomfortably against the hood of the Impala and glanced at the ground for a long moment.

Her eyes didn't meet his when she finally managed to speak. "I gave Sam the ritual that Castiel sent me with," she said.

"Yeah, Sam told me about it earlier," Dean stammered. "He said it might help us get outta this whole deal."

"Yeah," Kenna whispered. "If we get it right it…it should work."

"That's good," Dean agreed. "That's real good."

McKenna took a deep breath and couldn't help but find his nervousness oddly endearing. She shot him an uneasy smile and pushed herself up, off the hood.

"I'll leave you alone," she said, softly. "I guess I…" she stopped, and shrugged, helplessly. "I guess I just wanted to see you."

Dean nodded in silent agreement. "Thanks," he whispered.

He didn't say another word and Kenna began to make her way back into the woods.

"Kenna," Dean called, suddenly, and she immediately turned back. He looked at her, shrugged his shoulders, just as she did only seconds before.

"I'm glad you're back," he said, softly.

McKenna nodded, smiled softly, and headed back into the woods. Halfway back to the house, she heard Dean take another shot at a beer can.

This time, he didn't miss.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

It was late and McKenna was tossing and turning in bed when she finally heard the rumble of the Impala pulling up to the house. Dean had stayed in the woods so long after dark that he didn't make it back for dinner. And Kenna had even cooked steak just for him.

_Guess I was trying too hard…_

She rolled over again, but wasn't really trying to fall asleep. With sleep, came dreams, and with dreams…came the nightmares. She heard Dean's heavy boots on the stairs and fully expected them to continue across the hall, followed by the quiet slam of the bedroom door. She'd never expected them to stop outside her door and then enter her room.

Kenna lifted her head and watched as Dean slipped his boots off and slowly made his way around to the other side of her bed. He sat at the opposite end, crossed his ankles and rested his spine against the footboard. Kenna flipped over onto her back and watched him open what appeared to be a magazine.

A shaft of moonlight hit the cover and she couldn't help but smile as Dean began to read.

"The newest Glock 19 is ideal for versatile use through reduced dimensions compared with the standard pistol size."

McKenna's eyes drifted closed as she continued to listen to the deep, gentle timbre of his voice.

"This firearm is suitable for concealed carry or as a backup weapon. For instance…"

**-Please review...Thank you! -Leigh**


	63. Chapter 63

When McKenna woke up the next morning, she wasn't at all surprised to find Dean gone. But she was quite shocked to find the Guns and Ammo magazine resting at the end of her bed.

With a Hershey Kiss on top of it.

Kenna smiled warmly and reached out to grab the small piece of candy. It was nine am, but that didn't matter. As far as she was concerned, any time was chocolate time. She unwrapped the tiny goody and popped it into her mouth, smiling as the chocolate melted on her tongue.

Clearly, Dean had left it for her, knowing just how much she would need it.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

After a quick shower, Kenna made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping to share a hug and kiss with Bobby and Sam. Dean smiled at her, and Kenna returned it, but neither one made any effort to touch one another.

Much less do anything else.

Sam ignored the tension in the room and continued to pour himself over the laptop in front of him and Castiel's papers spread across the kitchen table. Dean tried to make himself appear useful by leaning on the table and glancing over his brother's right shoulder.

Kenna took a bite of toast and moved to lean over Sam's left shoulder. She rested her hand on the back of his chair and didn't even notice when Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other and leaned against the same chair. His left hand came down and rested over the back of hers.

Maybe Dean had done it on purpose. Maybe he hadn't even been paying attention. But then again, maybe he had.

His hand stayed there for a long moment, too long for it to be an accident.

Kenna glanced down and watched as Dean's thumb traced over the back of her hand for a few seconds, almost as though he couldn't help himself. Suddenly, his brows knit together and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at her for just a moment, his expression now one of pained anger.

He quickly removed his hand, turned his back, and left the kitchen without another word.

Kenna closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was like he hadn't read to her the night before, and like he'd never left her the chocolate this morning.

Sam frowned and gently pulled her down into the chair beside him. His eyes didn't move from the research on his laptop screen as he placed a gentle hand on her knee.

"He'll be all right," Sam promised.

"He's mad at me," Kenna argued. "I left him and I hurt him."

Sam patted her knee two times and then removed his hand. "He'll be all right," he said, again. "He just needs some…time."

McKenna nodded her head and fought back the tears that began to collect in the corners of her eyes. She reached up, dabbed the bottom of her eyelids with her fingertips and jerked her chin at the computer screen.

"So," she began. "Have you found anything?"

"Actually, yeah," Sam said, and turned the laptop towards Kenna. "But, it isn't good."

Kenna frowned. "What do you mean, Sam?"

"Well," he said, shrugging. "If I've translated it right…Dean and I might be better off if we just kill ourselves right now."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna slowly meandered her way outside and found Dean in one of Bobby's man garages. She smiled when she saw his feet sticking out from beneath the Impala. She knocked on the hood with her knuckle.

"Dean?" she questioned.

"Yeah?"

She leaned forward and dangled a glass bottle from her fingers, hoping he would see her peace offering. "Beer?"

Dean instantly pushed himself out from under the car, riding on the mechanic's dolly until he stopped the momentum with his heels. He pulled himself up and reached out to take the beer she offered. His eyebrow arched up when he finally noticed a second bottle in her other hand.

"You brought me two?" he asked.

"Nope," Kenna smiled. "This one's for me."

Dean chuckled. "_You're_ gonna have a beer?"

"Yup," she nodded and handed her bottle over to Dean and he opened both of them with his pocketknife. He tapped his bottle against hers and watched as Kenna finally took a sip. She took a swig, swallowed, and glanced at the bottle.

"So, what do you think?" Dean asked.

A warm, slow smile crept over her lips. "Huh," she grunted, softly. "You know, I think I can understand why you like this stuff so much, Dean."

He chuckled and watched as she took a few more hardy gulps.

"Hey, take it easy," Dean chuckled and gently pulled the bottle away from her lips. "You're not used to drinkin', and sometimes one bottle is all it takes."

Kenna shrugged and took another slow slip. "Well, getting drunk _was_ on my Bucket List."

Dean frowned. "You're not dyin' anymore, Kenna," he said, somberly. "You don't need to follow that List."

"Yes, I do," she argued. "Especially the last thing I added."

Dean shot a sidelong glance at her and took a long swig of his beer. "What's that?"

Kenna took a deep breath and turned towards him. If she had more self-confidence, she would've touched his arm, or at least done something to get his attention, but she just didn't know quite what to do.

"I want to try and fix this," she finally whispered, and took another sip from her bottle.

Dean stared straight ahead, pursed his lips, and leaned back against the hood of the Impala. He glanced at the poured cement floor and refused to meet her gaze.

"Would that be possible?" she added.

For a long moment, he didn't speak, didn't even move. But finally, Dean closed his eyes and nodded, slowly. "Yeah," he whispered. "Though it's kinda hard for two people to have a relationship when one of 'em keeps runnin' away."

Kenna looked up at him and almost smiled. "Is that what we have?" she asked. "A relationship?"

Dean blushed and nearly allowed himself to chuckle. "I umm…" he stammered. "I don't really know. I mean, I've…technically never really had one before."

Kenna smiled and moved to stand next to him. "Yeah, well…me neither."

Dean pushed himself up off the hood and turned face her. He pointed an almost playful finger close to her face. "I have a rule, though," he stated. "Well, two, actually."

Kenna frowned and rolled her eyes. "Neither one of us likes rules, Dean," she argued. "You know that."

He disregarded her comment, despite the fact that it was very true, and simply moved on. His pointed finger trembled and for a moment, his chin did the same. "No more running," he choked.

Kenna closed her eyes, once again fought back a sudden wave of emotion, and nodded. "I promise," she whispered. "What's number two?"

"You start talkin' to me," Dean said. "If I get too close, too fast and you start goin' squirrely on me, you say something. You don't just up and run away. If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you say something."

"Okay," she agreed.

"All right, then, I'm gonna test you," Dean said, only half teasing. "Right now, whatever's in your head…say it."

Kenna frowned. She'd wished he hadn't said that.

_Well, he asked for it…_

"Sam's translated some of the papers Castiel gave me," she began. "Particularly the ending."

"And?" Dean questioned, although he'd originally hoped that she was going to start with something a little more flirtatious.

"Apparently, the ritual _can_ work," McKenna continued. "And if it's done right, it'll not only save you and Sam, but it'll also _kill_ Michael and Lucifer."

A slow grin crept across Dean's lips and he almost rushed at her, but Kenna lifted a hand to still him.

"But it's a lot more involved than the just me doing a ritual over the two of you," she said. "In order for it to _actually_ work…you and Sam have to say yes, first."

**-Please review...thank you! -Leigh**


	64. Chapter 64

McKenna tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as she could, careful not to wake Bobby and Sam. It was after midnight, and Dean still hadn't come to her room. She had managed to nod off by herself for a few minutes, but without Dean there to read her to sleep, it just wasn't the same.

She poked her head around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and found Dean sitting on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table, and Sam's laptop resting over his thighs. The bright light from the screen illuminated his obvious exhaustion within the dark room. A warm smile crept its way onto her lips as she watched his eyes droop closed, and his chin fall forward to rest on his collarbone.

If Kenna didn't get Dean up to bed now, he'd fall asleep right there on the couch. And he deserved a much better night's sleep than that.

"Dean," she whispered, and took a few steps forward. He didn't move a muscle when she reached around and prepared to shut down the laptop. Her eyes caught on the screen and she almost smiled. Dean had been going over Sam's research on their ritual, and as far as she could tell, he'd even taken some notes down, himself.

Kenna closed the laptop, unplugged it, and removed it from Dean's lap. He still didn't wake up, but his brows knit together, while his right hand slid up, over his chest and rested over his cotton-covered tattoo. Kenna reached up and traced her fingers over his right hand ring for a moment. He looked so peaceful that she almost didn't want to wake him.

"Dean," she whispered again, and leaned down to place a soft kiss against the back of his calloused hand. The unexpected movement surprised Kenna, herself, almost as much as it did Dean. His eyes fluttered open on a soft moan, and he smiled, gently. Perhaps just to add to his personal shock, alone, she placed another kiss to the back of his hand and then pulled away to look at him.

"Hey," she whispered, and jerked her chin at the discarded laptop. "Did you find anything new?"

Dean shook his head. "No," he answered. "You were right. The only way the ritual will work is if we say yes."

Kenna shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

"Not only that," he continued, as he sat up. "But we could die in the process, too."

"Yeah, I know," Kenna said. "I saw that. After you say yes, you and Sam have less than two seconds to reject Michael and Lucifer, and if you don't do it at the exact, right moment…" she paused, reached up and touched Dean's face. It had taken her being away from him for a few days for her to really comprehend what she was missing. "I could lose you," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, covering her hand with his own. "You're not gonna lose me," he whispered.

Kenna chuckled, wryly. "You can't promise that."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, I can," he argued. "I'm Dean Winchester, dammit. I went to Hell and came back to talk about it, so hell yeah, I can survive some wimpy little ritual."

He was trying to be tough, if only for her sake, but she couldn't hide her grin as she stood up and held her hand out to Dean.

"Come on," she said, softly. "Let's go to bed."

Dean took her hand and pulled himself up, off the couch, a wicked grin plastered over his face. "_Let's_ go to bed?" he questioned, teasing her.

Kenna blushed and looked to the floor when she felt Dean squeeze her hand and lace their fingers together.

"No pressure," he added, and hooked his free hand under her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. "You know that, right?"

"I know," she clarified, and nervously bit her lip. "I just…" Kenna stopped and shrugged, unable to explain her feelings further.

Dean had told her earlier, in the garage that he wanted her to open up and talk to him, but now, when she actually needed to, she couldn't find the words.

She wanted him.

_Or at least I think I do…_

She had never really _wanted_ anyone before, and wasn't quite sure what that might feel like.

All she knew was that when he walked in the room, her fingers tingled, her stomach went crazy, and she wanted to run into his arms and just melt there. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, and let him…

Kenna closed her eyes for moment. It was crazy to even think about it. Even if she were to let him do…_that_…she wouldn't know what the hell to do for him in return. She bitterly remembered what she'd read in Chuck's manuscript, about what Zechariah had said about her.

_"You know, in every sense but a technical one, I think she's a virgin..."_

She really wished that that were true. It'd almost be much easier if she were a real virgin, instead of just a technical one.

Dean seemed to sense her dilemma, as well as her unspoken decision...That she simply wasn't ready yet.

The next thing Kenna knew, he was leading her upstairs to her room, gently tugging her along, his strong hand wrapped around hers. When they entered her bedroom, he gently pushed her into bed, tucked her in, and left the room.

Kenna stayed beneath th covers, but sat up, legs bent, and ankles crossed. Just when she began to wonder if he was coming back, Dean returned barefoot, and wearing a pair of pajama pants and a new t-shirt. He sat down on the bed, across from her and held out his hands, palms down, and both rolled into fists.

"Pick a hand," he commanded, gently.

Kenna smiled and picked the one to her left.

Dean frowned and shook his head. "Pick a hand," he said again.

Kenna giggled this time, and quickly tapped the other fist. Dean instantly loosened his grasp and a silver chain slipped down through his fingers.

Hanging from the chain was a familiar, small charm.

McKenna's breath hitched within her lungs and her fingers went up to cover her open mouth. Her chin trembled and a single tear slid down her left cheek. She stared at the familiar silver and turquoise butterfly charm, and tenderly reached out to touch it.

"Oh my gosh…" she choked, wondering how a replica could be so close to the real thing. "How did you do this without me knowing?" she asked.

Dean almost smiled, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "I didn't do anything," he argued, gently. "This is the real thing, Kenna. It's the exact same necklace you lost when you were fifteen."

Kenna let out a heavy sigh and gently pulled the necklace from his fingers. Once again, she was at a complete loss for words.

"Right before we torched the Compound, I saw something shiny through the floorboards in one of the sheds," Dean began. "I grabbed it and pulled it out. I remembered it from the picture that Bobby had shown us. All I did was have it cleaned."

Kenna felt as though she were walking through a haze as she gazed down at the little charm resting in her hands. To this day, she still didn't know where it had come from. She didn't know if it belonged to her mother, or maybe a grandmother. She couldn't remember if it was a Birthday or Christmas present. All she knew was that she'd always had it, long before she even ended up at the Compound.

Even as a little girl, she'd thought of it as a connection to her family.

_My real one..._

She looked up at Dean for a moment, closed her eyes, and smiled. "Thank you," she whispered.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and smiled like it was nothing, but he had no idea. He jerked his chin at her. "Put it on."

Kenna parted the chain and slipped it over her head, letting the charm fall where it may. She reached up and lovingly fingered the butterfly charm. Dean leaned forward and pulled her hair out from beneath the chain on the back of her neck and ran his fingers through the long, blonde strands.

Kenna slowly wrapped her arms around Dean's shoulders and held on for dear life. He'd probably never understand that he hadn't given her just a necklace.

He had given her the only tiny shred of innocence she'd ever really had.

Dean closed his eyes and draped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get. She had promised to never to leave him again, and he would promise that she would never, ever have a reason to.

Kenna pulled back and looked into Dean's eyes for a moment before leaning in and pressing her lips to his. Dean instantly returned the kiss and the two stayed like that for what felt like hours.

Deep down, they both wanted more, but for tonight, what they had right now, was more than enough.

**-Okay, I have a dilema:**

**_I_ know they need a love scene..._You_ know they need a love scene...All God's children know they need a love scene! They both really deserve it! And before this story is complete, I think that _really_ needs to happen! **

**But, I've never written a love scene before and I have no idea how to do that. And I also have _NO_ desire to do anything too steamy/smutty. That's not who the character's are, and even more than that, that's not who _I_ am. **

**So, I need so ideas and encouragement on how to do this. **

**PLEASE HELP!!!**


	65. Chapter 65

McKenna frowned in her sleep as a shaft of sunlight filtered through the curtains and landed in a long line across her face. She didn't want to wake up yet. It was too early, and she was still too tired. Despite her efforts to stop them, Kenna's eyes slowly fluttered open, but she quickly changed her mind, thankful that she had eyeballs to begin with.

The corners of her lips curled up as she saw her bedmate lying on his side, facing her direction, with his arm draped over her hip. Dean was fast asleep, his body half beneath the covers with her, and for the first time in weeks, his expression was relaxed, almost carefree. Kenna's smile broadened as she snuggled just a bit closer to him. The hand on her hip subconsciously contracted at her movements and she slowly began to drift off again…

A sudden knock on her door brought her back from an almost sound sleep. Kenna glanced back over her shoulder and prayed that whoever was on the other side of the door would have enough decency to stay there.

"Kenna?"

"Holy crap," she whispered, and jerked up.

It was Bobby.

And if he found Dean in her room, _in her bed_, the man was as good as dead. It didn't even matter that the two of them hadn't done anything more than share a kiss and fall asleep. That didn't matter one bit.

Dean's ass was going to be royally kicked.

Bobby knocked again. "Sweetheart, are you up?"

Finally, Dean began to stir. He frowned against the sunlight just as Kenna had moments before, but his expression quickly turned to a smile when he realized where he was and whom he was with.

"Kenna," Bobby said again, his voice and knock a little sterner, this time.

Dean's eyes widened with fear. "Is that Bobby?"

"Yeah," Kenna nodded.

"Holy hell, he's gonna kill me."

"Not today, he's not," Kenna muttered and without one word of warning, shoved Dean off his side of the bed, and onto the floor.

"Hide under the bed," she hissed, and quickly straightened the covers, trying her best to make it look like the bed had only seen one user that night.

Kenna glanced over the edge of the mattress and watched as Dean did as he was told and rolled out of sight. When she was positive that everything was in order, she finally lay back down and turned to face the door.

"Come on in, Bobby," she said, and watched as the old man finally opened the door and wheeled himself in.

"Mornin'," he said, smiling. "What took you so long?"

"I umm," Kenna stammered. "I was still sleeping. I guess I didn't hear you right away. Sorry."

Bobby shrugged, and thankfully moved on. "Whatcha want for breakfast, sweetheart?" he asked. "I'm cookin'."

Kenna smiled. "What for?"

Bobby frowned at her. "Why not?" He shrugged. "You been cookin' for us men the past two days, so can't an old man be sweet, and let you off the hook every once in a while?"

McKenna didn't need to be told twice.

"Waffles, Bobby," she grinned. "And lots of 'em."

"Done!" he said, and slapped his palm against the armrest of his wheelchair. He squeezed her hand, turned the chair, and proceeded to wheel himself out of the room. Just when Kenna thought he was gone, Bobby poked his head back in.

"And Dean, you can come on out from under the bed now," he added, quickly. "You idjit."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam lifted his gaze from his computer screen as McKenna and his brother made their way down the stairs. He did his best to hide his knowing grin from the couple, but Dean caught it and smacked the back of his head, anyway.

"I'd be nice if I were you, Dean," Sam warned. "You have a ton of work to do today."

He turned the laptop so the couple could see the screen and pointed out a long of items.

"What the hell is all that?" Dean asked.

"That's all the stuff we're gonna need in order to do the ritual," Sam said. "I translated some more of Cas's papers, and there are a ton of little details that go along with this thing."

"Starting with everything in that list?" Kenna questioned.

Sam nodded. "And that's not everything. There's still a lot more left to translate."

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned down to take a better look at the list. They would need everything from pine logs to form a giant Enochian sigil with, some of Cas's holy, angel trapping oil, black amber candles, holy water, goofer dust, mint leaves, salt…and the list went on and on.

"This is ridiculous," Dean groaned. "I mean, the only thing missing from this list is a Mickey Mouse key chain and Lindsay Lohan's phone number."

"Well, lucky for you, boys," Bobby said, suddenly as he wheeled himself into the living room. "I've got some of the tough stuff in that old cabin, back at the edge of the property."

Sam and Dean smiled at one another.

They'd both nearly forgotten that the old shack was even back there. They had spent a good part of their childhood playing in that old, powerless cabin, and exploring all the hidden treasures Bobby kept there for safekeeping. The two boys had even spent many nights camping out there, pretending they were pirates marooned on a desert island using only their wits to survive.

"I've got just about everything you need out there, except for Castiel's holy, ass- kickin' angel juice, that is, " Bobby continued. "Hell, there are even some pine trees you can chop down for the sigil."

Without another word, Sam went back to work on his computer and Bobby wheeled off, into the kitchen.

Dean frowned. There was no way he was doing all that work by himself. He glanced back over his shoulder at Kenna, and smiled sweetly. "Babe? You feel like bein' a lumberjack today?"

Kenna didn't answer. She simply rolled her eyes, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the front door. "Didn't even get to enjoy my freakin' waffles," she muttered, and the screen door slammed behind her.

As Dean pulled on his own coat, Bobby poked his head out of the kitchen just long enough to toss Dean a set of keys.

"Take the truck, son," he said. "You'll never get through those the woods with either one of your cars."

Dean nodded and made his way toward the front door.

"And be careful," Bobby called, as he glanced out the kitchen window. "Looks like it might start stormin' soon."

Dean said goodbye to Sam and Bobby and headed outside. He was actually looking forward to seeing the little cabin again. It'd been such a long time.

_Hell, maybe I'll even get to be a pirate again... _

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Even with the truck's large size and 4-wheel drive engaged the whole way, it still took Dean and Kenna at least an hour to reach the cabin. And it had already begun to rain before they were even halfway there.

Dean pulled up in front of the rickety, log shack and stared out the rainy window.

"I don't think either one of us are going to be lumberjacks today, Dean," Kenna said, frowning.

"No, I guess not," he agreed. "But we can at least go inside and grab everything else. Come on."

Dean hopped from the cab of the truck and Kenna quickly followed suit. They met in front of the hood, and Dean took her hand in his and did his best to lead her around the ever-growing mud puddles. Despite it being the middle of the day, the storm had brought out the darkness of night.

Dean unlocked the front door as quickly as possible and shoved his way inside, pulling Kenna along with him.

A gust of cold, musty air slammed into them as Dean quickly shut the door behind him. Kenna retrieved a lighter from her pocket and began to light a few candles, quickly making sure they weren't the ones they'd need for the ritual, first. Thanks to the new light, the couple began to rummage through all of Bobby's supplies.

Dean's fingers skimmed over the dusty blanket covering the full sized cot in the corner. A slow smile crept across his lips as he remembered all the nights that he and Sam used to stay up late and read each other ghost stories.

_Back when we didn't know that ghosts were real…_

"Looks like you have some memories here," Kenna said, softly from the other side of the room. "Are they bad ones or good ones?"

Dean smiled. "Good ones."

Kenna crossed the room and touched his arm, matching his smiling with one of her own. "Good," she whispered.

She leaned in closer, and gazed at Dean's lips, fully intent on giving him another good, little memory, when the room was suddenly filled with white hot light, followed by an instant, crashing boom of thunder.

Dean rushed to the window, just in time to see one of the huge pines be struck by lightening and fall to the ground, outside.

Kenna watched him close his eyes and lean his back on a frustrated sigh. "What happened?" she asked, already starting to panic.

Dean pointed his finger out the window. "Come take a look."

Kenna joined him and took a look outside. Her face instantly fell. "Holy crap."

It was a one in a million incident, but naturally, Dean was a Winchester and Kenna was…well, she was no stranger to bad luck either, so needless to say, all that was left of Bobby's truck was the tires and the bed.

The damn pine tree had fallen right on top of the cab, crushing the truck and making it useless.

"Well…" Kenna shrugged, helplessly. "At least we weren't inside it."

Dean chuckled, almost feeling thankful for McKenna's silver-lining attitude. But there was something else she had obviously forgotten. They had no cell phone service out here, with or without the storm raging overhead.

"Well, babe, it looks like you're gonna get to cross camping off your list now, too," Dean groaned.

"Why's that?" Kenna asked.

Dean held up his phone, revealing his 'no service' screen.

"Because we're stuck here."

**-HeeHeeHee...**


	66. Chapter 66

"Four of a kind."

McKenna grinned and laid her winning hand on the cot. Dean tossed his losing pair on top of her cards and rolled his eyes. If they were actually betting money, he would've been up crap creek without a paddle a long time ago.

"Dammit," he groaned. "How'd you get so good at Poker?"

Kenna shrugged, smiled smugly, and began to shuffle the cards again, thankful that Dean had found the cards, earlier. Without them, the couple would have had absolutely nothing to do.

"So, this is why you always have more money than me and Sam?" he questioned. "While we're off thinkin' we're makin' a killing hustling pool, you're just sittin' pretty, playing Poker, and raking it in."

Kenna grinned, and leaned across the cot to place a quick peck on his lips. It was her version of saying 'I'm sorry you suck,' without actually saying it. She dealt out another hand, lifted her own, stared at it, and then looked up at him.

Dean rolled his eyes and swore again. McKenna had the best Poker face he'd ever seen in his life. Two losing hands later, Dean began to wonder how much longer he could last before bursting into pitiful, sobbing tears.

Kenna looked up and glanced out the rainy window. She and Dean had been stuck at the cabin for over three hours, with no way of getting back to Bobby's house, and living off of granola bars that Dean had luckily managed to salvage from the truck's crushed glove compartment.

"So…" Kenna mumbled. "They're not coming to get us, are they?"

Dean smiled, softly and let out a wry chuckle. "I don't think so, babe," he said. "When it comes to goin' out in bad weather, Bobby's always been a big baby. And I can't imagine Sam gettin' up and walking away from his precious research."

Kenna rolled her eyes, pouted, and let out a pitiful whimper. She placed a hand over her growling stomach and shot a glare at Dean. She would've been just fine had he allowed her to have her precious waffles before they left this morning.

"I think we're here for the night," he added, and glanced up at her with a playful wink. "Wouldn't surprise me if they think they're doin' us a favor."

Kenna blushed, but still managed to offer him a smile. "Will they at least come get us in the morning?" she asked.

Dean nodded. "Oh, yeah. They're not _that_ cruel."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Ten more hands of Poker, a few games of Go Fish, and six rounds of Gin, equaled close to six hours of cabin fever. And needless to say, Kenna was starting to go stir crazy.

Dean watched her pace back and forth in front of the window from where he was sitting on the cot. She moved like a nervous, hungry tiger, wanting to escape from her cage.

He completely understood her anxiety, though. He knew she couldn't stand being in small, dark places for too long. And he didn't envy whatever was flashing through her mind at the moment.

But, it was more than that. She hadn't said a word to him in over an hour, and it was starting to worry him. It was almost as if she was shutting down, preparing for some great end.

And it had nothing to do with being shut up in the cabin.

Dean crossed his ankles and sat up. "Babe—"

"What if the ritual doesn't work?" Kenna asked, as she finally came to a stop in front of the dark window.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was nervously chewing on her lower lip. Dean saw her chin tremble in the dim candlelight, and slowly rose up to his feet. He crossed the room and stood close, behind her, his hands gently skimming over her denim covered arms.

"You can't be thinkin' about that," he offered, gently.

"Too late," she mumbled. "I have to be realistic about this, Dean. If we don't have every single aspect of it right—"

"We'll get it right," he argued. "We have to."

She turned in his arms, and looked up at him, with big, tear-filled eyes. Dean almost smiled. He'd never realized before now, how closely her puppy dog eyes matched his brother's.

_No wonder she always wins at Poker…_

"I have to say the incantation crap in Latin, Dean," she whispered. "_Latin_. I suck at Latin."

Dean smiled, kindly. "You don't…you don't suck," he offered. "You just…"

"_I suck_," Kenna stated, strongly.

"All right, fine," Dean finally conceded. "You do suck a little bit."

Any other woman would've been extremely insulted by his words, and probably would've smacked him, but not Kenna. The puppy dog eyes disappeared and were replaced by a smile. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Dean hugged her close, loving how the top of her head fit perfectly, tucked under his chin. He ran his fingers through her hair, noticing how the rain and brought out a few subtle curls.

Kenna closed her eyes against Dean's flannel covered chest and completely melted into his comforting embrace.

But it wasn't enough.

The odds weren't stacked against them. So many little things could go wrong. They could leave out the tiniest detail, or Kenna could botch up just _one_ word…

The ritual would be ruined…and Sam and Dean would be killed.

Common sense screamed to not even attempt the ritual, but Kenna knew that there was no way that she could even try to talk Sam and Dean out of it now. They were willing to do anything to get out of their family curse and kill the two angels.

Even if it meant killing themselves in the process.

Kenna didn't know what she was thinking. She knew better. She had reasons not to be with Dean. And all of them were good ones. She ran all her old mantras through her head.

_Letting someone get too close to you just means they need a shorter knife. _

_Lonely and alive always works just fine._

But now, standing here, within the safety of Dean's arms, those words meant nothing to her.

Kenna lifted her head and looked up at him for a moment before her gaze slid down to his lips. Against her better judgment, she stood up on toes and pressed her lips to his, immediately parting them with her own and letting herself in.

Dean wasn't going to complain. In fact he never did. But he was surprised, to say the least, at her sudden display of passion for him. Usually it was him that had to initiate any contact between the two of them, but this time, it'd been Kenna who had jumped in, head first.

He allowed her to continue to kiss him, let her explore his mouth using nothing but her own. But when she whimpered desperately and reached up to cup the back of his head in her hand, he began to worry.

Dean pulled back just enough for him to look at her.

They hadn't really carried on a serious conversation about sleeping with each other. Not because either of them didn't want to, but simply because they hadn't ever needed to. They had teased one another. Battled together in a play on words about fooling around, much like they had the night before.

But they had never let it go to anything beyond that.

McKenna was a good girl. So good, in fact, that Dean would even call her pure, despite what had happened to her as a child. To him, it didn't count then, and it sure as hell didn't count now. He knew she believed in God, prayed, and went to church when she could, but he wasn't sure of her personal beliefs towards sex outside of marriage.

And needless to say, they weren't married.

_But maybe if everything works out, and this is all over…_

Then again, maybe she was completely putting her morals aside, simply to do something they might never get to do again.

He brought his hands up to rest on either side of her face, skimming his palms back, over her hair. The comforting caress caused her head to tip back and her eyes to close.

"Kenna, I don't want you to do something you might regret, just because you think you might lose me," he whispered, gently.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling softly at his constant need to always put her first. He had changed so much since she'd first met him. Back then, he was a lone, drunk wolf, always on the prowl for any kind of comfort, whether if be booze, food, or…other things.

But he wasn't the same man, anymore. If he were, she wouldn't be where she was right now.

"I'm not," she said, and closed her eyes again, afraid to face him. "I think I've wanted this for a long time…I just didn't know it."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a desperate need to tease her again. "And what is it that you want, exactly?"

She smiled softly and firmly planted her gaze on the floor, below. "You."

Dean smiled. He could give her that. It was all he really had to offer, anyway.

Without another word, Dean leaned down and kissed her again.

**-All right, you asked for a love scene, and I'm going to do the best I can to give you one...Even though I'm scared to death!!! :) -Leigh**


	67. Chapter 67

**-Okay...here we go...**

Without breaking contact from her lips, Dean reached up and slowly slid Kenna's denim jacket from her shoulders. He slid the fabric down her arms until it finally fell to the floor in a heap. Kenna pulled back and hesitantly slipped her hands over Dean's chest and up his shoulders, successfully removing his jacket as well.

Her hands were trembling as they went up to cup both sides of his face, whether it was from fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure, but either way…she didn't care.

Dean's hands went up the buttons on Kenna's flannel shirt and unbuttoned the first one. He instantly felt her freeze.

He'd known from the start that this was going to be hard. Kenna was a warrior and her clothing was her armor. And he knew it was going to be difficult to remove it.

He waited a moment and watched her close her eyes, subconsciously willing her body to relax again. Finally, she looked up at him and nodded.

Dean slowly unbuttoned her shirt and Kenna even helped him by shrugging it off, herself.

Without another thought, she removed his flannel shirt too, and found a gray t-shirt beneath it. Suddenly, she didn't like his need to always wear layers. She wrapped her arms around Dean's waist and slid her hands beneath the cotton, skimming her fingers all the way up his sides, taking the t-shirt along with it. His arms went up to help her bring the fabric over his head.

"Ow," he gasped, feeling a tug from where his stitches used to be. "Careful."

Kenna smiled, shyly and bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and leaned forward to press a kiss against the light scar on his chest.

Dean closed his eyes and tossed his t-shirt aside. "_Oh God_, you're forgiven," he moaned, as she continued to spread tiny kisses across his chest.

He placed his arms on her shoulders, let his hands run down to cover her back. His palms came to a stop on the hook on her bra, but decided to give her a little more time before removing that, too.

_Slow and easy, Dean. Slow and easy…_

His fingertips slid over each and every raised line along her skin. The scars she hated so much were nothing more than signs of survival to Dean, but his heart still ached for the pain it must have caused her.

Kenna closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to Dean's bare chest, conforming her body against his. She was trembling again, and unable to stop it.

Dean hooked his fingers beneath her bra hook and slowly undid it. He felt Kenna's eyelashes flutter against his chest, but she made no move to stop him. He gently slid the straps down over her shoulders and Kenna pulled away just long enough for him to remove the fabric from her body, but she immediately pressed herself against his chest again, hiding herself from his view.

He chuckled into her hair. "I didn't even get to see anything good," he whispered, playfully.

Kenna smiled, blushing against his skin and Dean could feel the heat from her cheeks. Truth was, he didn't care whether he saw anything or not. He only wanted to be close to her. Even if she panicked and told him to stop, right now, he'd still probably walk away feeling some small semblance of satisfaction.

But, he didn't complain when she slowly pulled away from him and allowed just enough space between their bodies for him to catch a quick glimpse.

There were a few more scars scattered across her chest, tiny white lines that began just below her collarbone and continued down below each breast, one of them nearly stretching toward her navel. Before she had a chance to conceal herself against his body again, Dean gently reached up and covered her chest with his hands.

Her lips parted on a gasp and her eyes rolled back, into her head. She went limp in his arms, and for a moment, Dean wondered if she was going to pass out on him. A harsh groan fell from her lips and she opened her eyes again, pulling his lips back down to hers.

He slowly walked her backwards, toward the cot, never once ending the kiss. The back of her knees hit the edge of the cot and Dean slowly lowered her spine to the blanket, below.

Unable to handle his wandering gaze over her half naked body, Kenna smiled shyly, turned on her side, and crossed her arms over her chest. Dean used her shyness to his advantage and turned away to grab a blanket and remove his jeans.

When he returned, he partially covered her body with the blanket, but purposely left her back bare. He gently turned Kenna over, completely onto her stomach and slowly slid his lips over each and every one of the scars along her skin. He spread a healing fire over her with every move he made, and despite her efforts to stop them, a few tears slipped past her lashes.

Dean felt her trembling and gently turned her to face him as he quickly climbed beneath the blanket with her.

He couldn't help but think that she deserved more than this. So much more than a dusty cot in a rickety old cabin.

But somehow, deep down, he knew it was perfect for them.

Kenna reached up and placed her palm over his angelic handprint. Dean frowned and averted his gaze away from hers.

"I kinda like it. It's like a tattoo," she whispered, repeating his own words back to him. "Or a birthmark, maybe—"

He growled and pressed her back, into the cot, kissing his way across her neck, collarbone, and every other bare spot of skin he could get his mouth on. Dean pushed aside the blanket just enough to unbutton her jeans.

A small, pair of hands suddenly caught his and gripped them like steel. He glanced up and looked at Kenna. Her eyes were huge and full of fear.

She looked like a scared little girl.

"It's all right," Dean whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her stomach. "Stay with me."

_Stay with me, Kenna. Don't go back there…_

Kenna's fingers loosened and allowed him to begin to tug the denim away from her waist. He stopped for a moment and his lips hovered over the brand on her hip. He shot a warm smile up to her before kissing the scar and even letting his tongue trace over the raised edges. Kenna's chin trembled, as she was overwhelmed with the surprising beauty of it all.

In retrospect, she would never remember how they'd both come to be completely naked, but once it happened, she almost felt…grateful.

Dean pulled the blanket tighter around them in an effort to fend off the chill in the air. His fingers danced over the goose bumps that popped up along her bare skin and he heard her gasp.

His head immediately snapped up to look at her.

"Sorry," she said, smiling softly. "That tickles."

Dean chuckled. She was having _fun_.

It was almost too good to be true.

He continued to touch, kiss, and even lick every inch of her body that Kenna would allow, and she did her best to keep up with him. If he didn't think that it would make him sound like a football coach, Dean would've told her what a good job she was doing, and how proud he was of her.

He kept an eye on her at all times, taking note of every moan, groan, and sigh she made, needing to make sure that they were all sounds of pleasure.

Dean had never been one to worry about his lovemaking skills. As far as he knew, women were always pleased with him. And there were plenty of them to speak for him, too. Hell, the cabin itself, wouldn't even hold half of them.

But that didn't matter. In fact, he couldn't have pictured another woman at the moment, even if he tried. With Kenna, he felt fresh, new, and almost as inexperienced as she was. Every other experience he'd ever had, no matter how mind-blowing it may have been, was completely forgotten.

He liked how it felt, loving the fact that she was the only woman to ever bring that out in him.

Dean cupped the sides of her face in his calloused hands and kissed her lips for a long time, in an effort to distract her a bit from what was coming next. He parted her legs with his knee and pulled back so he could see her.

But her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Look at me," he commanded gently.

Kenna did as she told, and when she opened her eyes…she only saw Dean.

From the very beginning of all this, Kenna was afraid that she might do what she'd done when she was a child. Afraid that she would separate herself from her body, and let her mind go somewhere else. But it didn't. She stayed within herself and…enjoyed it.

Relished in it. Found comfort and…healing in it.

There was no Compound, no Brothers, no demons, no cold cement walls, or the sounds of screaming little girls.

There was only Dean.

He pressed closer and ran his fingers through her hair, his touch so wanted that she almost felt like he was teasing her now. He shifted again, and Kenna could feel him exactly where her body wanted him to be.

_If he'd only move just a few more inches…_

Dean's gaze slid over her face and made contact with her eyes.

"Kenna," he whispered. "Do you love me?"

Kenna smiled, even as a new wave of tears clouded her vision. She touched Dean's face, looked straight into his eyes, and nodded. A slow smile spread across his lips just before they descended over hers again.

She would never know how it happened, whether it was because she was so delirious with joy or because Dean was so gentle and gradual with his efforts, but suddenly…

They were one.

Kenna had always heard people describe it that way, but she'd never really understood it, until now. She was no longer Kenna. And he was no longer Dean. They just…were.

"You okay?" Dean whispered, frantically. "You all right?"

Kenna nodded, her mouth open, and chest heaving. Dean rested his forehead against hers and the two moved as one in an age-old dance that spanned across thousands, maybe millions of years.

Dean whispered constant words of encouragement, telling her he loved her, and that he didn't know how to live without her.

Kenna gripped her fingertips into his back in an effort to get closer, telling him she never wanted to be apart from him again. Dean felt her fingernails digging into his back, a sure sign that she was to the place where he'd worked so hard for her to be.

It was something he'd forgotten to warn her about. Something he didn't even think she knew about. He pulled back and looked at her. Judging by the look on her face, she was beginning to panic.

No, he couldn't lose her now.

"Shh…it's all right. Stay with me," he whispered. "Just stay with me."

Kenna whimpered, but did as she was told. Unable to have Dean watch her any longer, she ducked her head and hid her face within the crook of his shoulder. He smiled when he felt her tense up on a long sigh.

With that, Dean was gone.

And it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, the deepest satisfaction he'd ever experienced, the safest he'd ever felt.

"Dean," she whispered.

He felt her tears sliding down his bare chest and he lifted his head. His hands went up to comb through her hair. Kenna looked up at him and smiled through her tears.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Dean leaned down and kissed her lips. "I love you."

Kenna nodded. "I love you, too."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"Mmm?"

"Sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

"You're so beautiful."

"It's dark, Dean. You can't see me."

"You _feel_ beautiful."

"You don't feel so bad, yourself."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No…I'm all right."

"Does this hurt?"

"Mmm…no."

"Does _that_ hurt?"

"No."

"Hmm...I love you."

"I love you, too."

A sudden gust of wind blew into the room accompanied by a familiar flutter of wings. Dean jerked his head up and covered McKenna with the blanket in an effort to preserve her modesty.

"Dean?"

He rolled his eyes and swore, softly. "Cas? Is that you?"

Dean felt Kenna burrow further under the blanket, hiding herself against his chest. Apparently, the last thing she wanted was for an angel to see her naked.

"What the hell are you doin' here, Cas?" he demanded. "How did you find us?"

The angel cleared his throat in the darkness and the couple could hear him shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Sam called me when you didn't return and asked me to come find you," he explained.

"Yeah…well," Dean shrugged. "You did. Congratulations."

"Perhaps it would be better if I returned in the morning," Castiel offered.

"Yeah, Cas," Kenna agreed, her voice muffled beneath the blanket. "Perhaps it would."

Without another word, the angel left the room, and Dean only prayed that he wouldn't go back and tell Sam and Bobby what he'd found. Though, he was glad that they had a 'ride' home in the morning.

Dean pulled Kenna closer and kissed her forehead. "You okay?"

She smiled against his chest, nodded, and closed her eyes.

Kenna was just perfect.

**-Okay, this time you HAVE to let me know what you think...Please! -Leigh**


	68. Chapter 68

Dean carefully tugged his arm out from beneath McKenna's sleeping head when the sharp tingles of numbness began to shoot up hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and nuzzled his face into the back of her neck and the flowing blonde hair that covered it. She moaned and shifted in her sleep, but didn't wake up.

"Kenna," he whispered.

"Mmm?"

"We need to get up, babe."

"No," Kenna argued and buried her head beneath the blanket.

Dean slipped one arm beneath the covers and wrapped it around her bare waist. He let his fingers dance over her skin, knowing the teasing touches would tickle her. After a few minutes, the playful caress did nothing more than make her squirm, and she even began to nod off again.

Finally, Dean gave up, pulled his arm out from beneath the blanket and rolled over onto his back, leaving her alone. It wasn't until that moment, that he realized that they were no longer in the uncomfortable cot.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head.

"Holy crap."

They weren't even in the cabin, at all. They were back in Bobby's house, in Kenna's room…in Kenna's bed.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered again.

Kenna finally lifted her head from beneath the blanket. Her eyes instantly grew wide.

"Holy crap," she whispered. "Did Castiel…?

"Yeah," Dean said, shocked. "I think he zapped us back her while we were sleeping."

Kenna frowned and cocked her head to one side. "Well, that's…umm…"

"Freakin' disturbing," Dean finished for her.

Kenna pulled the blanket tight around her torso and settled back against her soft pillows, and glanced nervously at Dean.

He looked at her and his appreciative gaze slid down from her eyes to the tips of her toes, lingering over her smooth, partially covered legs. He chuckled when the apples of her cheeks reddened.

"Oh no," he said, gently. "After last night…you are _not_ allowed to be bashful anymore."

Kenna's eyes narrowed and her lips flattened in a wary smirk. She should have known that Dean would need to remind her of how well he 'knew' her now. Teasing was in his nature, and truthfully, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Seriously," he said, suddenly and gently reached forward to wrap his arm around her waist. "Are you okay?"

Kenna placed her hands over his arm, tracing the muscles she found there with her fingers. She nodded. "I'm…" she sighed, and shrugged, unsure of how to say it. "I'm better. You made me better."

Dean smiled. "That's a two way street, then," he agreed. "Because you made me better too."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Kenna paced back and forth across the front porch as Sam patiently corrected her horrible Latin. She rolled her eyes and tried the incantation again.

"That was better," Sam offered. "You only messed up one word that time."

"Yeah, well one wrong word is all it takes," she argued. "And then you guys will just blow up."

Kenna took a seat next to Sam on the front steps and let out a heavy sigh. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the long strands out of her face.

"It's gonna be okay, Kenna," Sam said, softly. "We trust you."

"That's just it, Sam," she argued. "You guys are trusting me with your lives. Whether or not you and Dean survive this is all on my shoulders."

Sam frowned, but didn't say anything.

"And not only that but the whole 'fate of mankind' thing kinda freaks me out, too," she added.

Sam reached up and placed a hand on Kenna's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. He had always been sorry that she'd unwittingly been sucked into all this, but now, after Castiel had explained everything, he turned out that they had needed her all along. No one else on earth could perform the ritual.

Kenna was part of their destiny. Now and forever.

Whether any of them liked it or not.

"None of us deserve this, Kenna," Sam began, and choked out a wry chuckle. "Not even me."

Kenna looked up at him and frowned. "Of course you don't deserve this, Sam," she said. "How on earth could you even think that?"

The younger Winchester brother pressed his palms together and nervously wringed his hands, as his lips stretched into one long, unhappy line. Kenna pushed her bottom lip out and nodded.

"The demon blood thing," she said, with dawning realization. "You think you deserve some kind of punishment for that?"

Sam said nothing, but he nodded his head.

Kenna smiled, softly. "You're a good man, Sam," she whispered. "Someone that your parents would be _so_ proud of."

A few tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and Sam did his best to wipe them away before they managed to escape.

"An angel considers you a friend, Sam," Kenna offered, speaking of Castiel. "And you've been at Dean's side every step of the way, helping him to end all of this."

Sam almost smiled. Kenna glanced around to make sure his older brother was nowhere in sight, and nudged Sam with her elbow. "You know, without you, Dean would've fallen on his ass a long time ago," she whispered.

A slow grin made itself at home on Sam's face and he placed his arm around Kenna's shoulder for a moment. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I think we'd both be on our asses if it wasn't for _you_."

Kenna smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that's true."

Sam laughed. And it felt really good.

**-Sorry so short! More Coming soon! -Leigh**


	69. Chapter 69

A bullet ricocheted off the perfectly bent piece of metal and hit the center of a beer can, dead on. Just as the shooter had planned.

McKenna lowered her aim and hit a second curved piece of scrap metal, sending the bullet on a perfectly designed course, careening through the air until it shattered an empty glass bottle about twenty feet away.

It was an amazing, one-in-a-million shot, but Kenna didn't smile.

"You okay, babe?" Dean asked, suddenly.

Kenna turned to look at him. She hadn't even heard him walking through the woods, much less even come up behind her.

"I'm fine," she said, curtly, and turned back to shoot again.

Dean shoved his hands into his front pockets and moved to stand beside her. "Sam said you walked off," he said.

"It's the Latin," she shrugged. "It pisses me off."

She took another quick shot, and once again, hit exactly what she was aiming at.

Dean clicked his tongue and smiled. "Babe, have I told you how sexy look when you got a gun in your hand?"

Kenna completely ignored his compliment and threw her hands up. "I mean, why Latin?" she asked. "Why did those old holy guys have to do _everything_ in Latin?"

Dean dropped his gaze to the ground and did his best not to chuckle. "It was the times, Kenna," he said, shrugging. "And the place. They all…spoke Latin."

"Well…"Kenna pouted. "They all suck."

Dean looked at her for a long time, and silently wished that they could go back to when everything was easier. Back to when all he had to was smile, hug her, and tell her that everything would be all right. Back to when he thought he could actually protect her from all of this. Better yet, he wished they could all go back to when there was no demons, no ghosts, Michael, or Lucifer.

_No evil. _

He continued to watch her shoot, taking aim, and hitting her target perfectly each and every time. She was worried about making a mistake during the ritual, worried about how it was all up to her.

But it wasn't. Not really.

Kenna didn't know it, but Dean wasn't worried about her bad Latin. That wasn't what scared him.

What scared him was the thought that he might be the one to screw it all up. He wasn't worried about Sam. Not at all. He knew that Sam hated Lucifer just as much, if not more than he did. So he knew that Sam would be able to say yes, accept Lucifer, and then turn right back around and reject him. All in less than two seconds.

He knew that Sam could do it.

But Dean wasn't sure if he could.

When Kenna lifted her Ruger P345, aimed again, and prepared to shoot. Dean's hand shot up, wrapped around her hand, including the gun within it, and pressed the end of barrel into his chest.

Kenna's finger immediately fell away from the trigger, while her hand attempted to release the gun entirely, but Dean's hand forced hers to remain wrapped around the weapon. Her eyes grew wide and glanced from Dean, to the gun, and back again. Dean's gaze was hard, and so cold that it scared her.

"Dean?" she whispered.

His hand squeezed over hers, nearly causing pain, and pressed the barrel further into his chest, right over his heart.

"This is what I want you to do if the ritual goes south," he began. "If anything goes wrong, you pull your gun out, you aim right here, and you pull the trigger."

Kenna's chin trembled and she shook her head. "I'll work on the Latin, Dean. I'll memorize every word and—"

"You'll do perfect," he said. "I know you will. But, I…I might not."

Kenna looked at Dean. His eyes were shiny.

"I want this to be over so bad," he continued. "And I wanted Lucifer dead yesterday. I want all that so, _so_ much that I don't know if I'll be strong enough to reject Michael."

Finally, Kenna understood what he was saying.

Dean was afraid that no matter how badly he wanted to reject Michael, his mind might subconsciously hold onto him, just in case Lucifer took over and refused to give up Sam. Clearly, Dean was willing to do anything protect his brother, even if it meant sacrificing himself for the greater good.

And judging by the look in his eyes, that greater good included her, too.

Kenna finally pulled her hand free from Dean's strong grasp, and let the gun clatter to ground, below.

"Look at me," she whispered and her cheeks quickly took on a rush of pink tint. "Last night was…wonderful."

Dean's brow knit together and he looked at her for a moment, wondering why on earth she'd suddenly mentioned that. But he certainly wasn't going to complain.

"Umm…thank you?" he stammered, completely unsure of what else to say.

Kenna rolled her eyes. "No, Dean. I'm saying that last night was wonderful for me," she began. "Simply because you let me have a choice. Something I'd never, ever had before. You never once _forced_ me to do anything I didn't want to do."

She paused and pointed to the gun on the ground. "So, do _not_…_force_ me to do that."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You think I _want_ you to do that?" he asked, and Kenna instantly rolled her eyes and began to pace back and forth.

"I hate this, okay? I _hate_ this," he said. "I hate that you've been put in a position where you might have to kill me, or maybe even Sam. I don't know. But, if something happens, if either messes this thing up, I trust that you will do the right thing."

Kenna finally came to a stop and looked up at him. She stepped forward and didn't stop until her lips met his. The kiss was gentle, passionate, and spoke words that neither of them could even begin to say out loud.

Kenna pulled back and rested her forehead against his. "I love you," she whispered. "Those are three words that I thought I would never say to anyone, Dean. Much less actually even _feel_ them."

Dean closed his eyes and placed his hands at her waist, wishing that he would never have to let her go.

"I will not kill the man that I love," she continued, and gently tugged her fingers against the base of his head. "Whether it's only an angel in there or not."

Dean finally opened his eyes and gazed into hers, loving the passion and love he saw in them.

"If something happens, whether it be because of me, Sam, you, or anybody else, I will decide what to do," she said. "And I promise you, Dean…it _will_ be the right decision."

Dean pressed their lips together again, made them cling.

"I love you," he whispered, softly.

Kenna smiled. "I know."

**-Please review...Thank you. -Leigh**


	70. Chapter 70

The tall grass seemed to part for them as Sam, Dean, and McKenna made their way back through the woods to Bobby's house. Twenty minutes earlier, Sam and come to tell the couple that Bobby had dinner ready, but couldn't seem to say no to staying for a little target practice.

Both brothers attempted to take the same ricocheting shots that Kenna had so impressively created, but neither could manage to make them. Eventually, they both decided that they wanted dinner more than continuing to lose their masculinity.

Kenna stepped through the tall grass muttering bits and pieces of the Latin ritual with every step she took. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica protestos—"

"Protest-_as_," Sam corrected, quickly.

Kenna paused and her whole body came to a complete stop. She closed her eyes for just a moment and took a deep breath before looking up at Sam. She shot him a hard glare Dean stepped closer and touched her hand, mainly just to stop her from attacking his brother if she decided to do so. Sam glanced back at her, but kept walking.

He really didn't want to die today.

"All right," Dean mumbled, softly, as he leaned in to press a comforting kiss to Kenna's temple. "That's enough Latin for today."

Kenna let out a heavy sigh and began to move again, though she couldn't help but chuckle when she noticed Sam quickening his stride. She lifted her gaze and watched the sun as it slowly began to fade behind the hills. It was going to be a beautiful night.

Off in the distance, Kenna could hear the howling of what sounded to be at least half a dozen dogs, and the noise was beginning to get on her nerves. She took a few more steps and suddenly heard an intense growling.

At first, the sound began as a vibration she could feel, deep within her chest, but it didn't take long before it spread throughout her entire body. Then, it became a sound and it hit her ears with an intensity she couldn't begin to describe.

She looked up and glanced back and forth at Sam and Dean. Both brothers continued to walk, normally as though they didn't hear a thing. Kenna blinked and shook her head in an effort to free herself from the ever-nearing sounds, but it did no good.

She continued to move forward, wanting nothing more than to get back to Bobby's house.

Suddenly, she saw something move from the corner of her eye. It was big, black, and shaggy. She was almost afraid to say anything, afraid that Sam would tease her and say that apparently she didn't have to go out looking for Bigfoot.

The big hairy sucker had found her, first.

But this wasn't Bigfoot.

Kenna finally stopped and looked closer, finding it difficult to visually track it with the darkness of night continuing to set in. She watched the dark, hairy mass as it moved, slowly crawling, hiding behind bushes and tree trunks. After a few moments, it seemed to stop caring if it was seen or not. Kenna watched as it slowly stepped out from behind the tall grass and effortlessly climb up onto a nearby boulder.

She could see its huge muscles bunch and release, it's long claws digging into the stone, leaving long lines etched into the face of the rock. It was bigger than the biggest dog she'd ever seen, and when it looked right at her…

It's eyes were red.

"Dean," she whispered.

He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "What's the matter, babe?"

Kenna didn't answer, but beckoned him closer with a flick of her lowered hand. Before Dean came, he whistled to Sam, calling him to come back their way. The two brothers joined her, and immediately recognized the fear in her eyes.

"Kenna?" Sam asked.

She remained silent, her gaze frozen dead ahead. Sam followed her gaze, but there was nothing there.

Or at least nothing _he_ could see, anyway.

She wasn't crazy. He knew that much, given what the three of them did everyday of their lives. And her credibility was too much to reckon with, as well. Kenna wasn't one to see things that weren't really there.

Which meant that something _was_ there. Sam knew it. Whether he could see it or not.

"What is it?" he asked, softly.

"A dog," she whispered.

"Where?"

She cocked her head forward. "There."

"How big is it?" Dean asked, moving nothing but his lips.

"_Big_," Kenna croaked. "It's looking right at me."

"Kenna—"

She swallowed. "Its eyes are red."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. They both knew exactly what it was. Especially Dean. He had seen them before.

The only thing they didn't understand was why Kenna was seeing one now.

"It's a Hellhound," Dean whispered.

"What?" Kenna's eyes grew large and her head jerked to look at Dean.

"Don't move," he commanded, gently. "Whatever you do, _don't move_…what's it doing now?"

"Nothing," Kenna whimpered. "It's just staring at me."

A few tears stung her eyes. "Why don't you guys see it?" she asked, tearfully. "Why can't you see it?"

"Shh…" Sam murmured. "What do you know about Hellhounds, Kenna?"

She shrugged and slowly shook her head. "Nothing," she whispered.

"Well, the only people that can see them are the ones they've come to get," Sam explained. "That's why me and Dean can't see it…because it's come for you."

Kenna sniffed. "I always thought they were a myth."

"Oh, no. They're real," Dean countered, softly. "Those sons-a-bitches were my one way ticket to hell. And they got Jo, too..."

Kenna lifted a trembling hand and slowly began to reach around behind her, meaning to grab for her gun. Dean glared at her and shook his head. "No, don't," he whispered. "It won't do a damn thing."

He slowly lifted his right hand and gestured toward Bobby's house. "When I count to three, we're all gonna take off and get to Bobby's house as fast as we can."

Sam and Kenna nodded.

"We're gonna get in the house and head to the Panic Room, understand? And babe?" He looked back at Kenna and stared directly into her frightened eyes. "_Don't. Look. Back_."

Kenna nodded again, blinked, and felt the tears roll down her cheeks. Her chest was already heaving, and she hadn't even moved yet.

Dean held up one finger. "One."

Two fingers. "Two."

Three. "Three. Go, go, go!"

The trio took off, sprinting for their lives toward Bobby's house. Kenna heard the dog jump from the boulder the second they began to run, and now it was howling again, barking at their heels. She could almost feel its breath against the back of her neck.

The hunters dodged past tree stumps, ducked under low hanging branches, and weaved in and out of the other large boulders, but the Hellhound staying close, never once losing its pace with them.

Sam was way up ahead, Dean was second, and Kenna was running in, last. At one point, Dean broke his own rule of not looking back when he glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that Kenna was still there. He slowed down, waited until she was right on top of him and grabbed her hand. The two took off again, running faster than before.

At last, Bobby's house came into view and the hunters made their way into the driveway.

Bobby was waiting for them on the front porch. He sat up in his wheelchair when he saw them running.

"Hellhounds, Bobby!" Sam screamed. "Get inside! Now!"

The old man quickly wheeled himself inside, and down the ramp, into the basement. He unlocked the Panic Room and waited for the younger hunters to join him.

Sam flew up the front steps, onto the porch, and held the door open for Sam and Kenna. The two brothers threw themselves against the door once it was shut, while Kenna grabbed the nearest supply of salt. She poured a line against the bottom of the door, praying that it would be enough to hold the evil thing at bay long enough for them to reach the basement.

She could hear it growling and scratching at the door, could see it's huge claws penetrating through the wood panels.

Kenna glanced at the windows. There wasn't time to salt every window and door in the whole house. It would take too much time, time they simply didn't have. The brothers shared a knowing look.

They both knew what they had to do.

Sam and Dean released the door, leaving the Hellhound behind, and headed to the basement, shoving Kenna down the ramp, ahead of them. Bobby swung Panic Room door open just long enough for the trio to rush inside, and quickly locked it behind them.

Kenna's chest was heaving and her lungs couldn't get enough oxygen as she collapsed against the heavy, iron walls.

All at once, Kenna couldn't hear it growling, anymore.

"I can't…hear it anymore," she wheezed. "I can't hear it."

Bobby wheeled over to her and took her hand in his, while Sam and Dean stood at the door, despite them knowing that they were safe here.

"Does that mean it's gone?" Kenna asked.

Dean opened his mouth but didn't have a chance to answer.

"Dean-o," a seductive, female voice suddenly called from just outside the door. "Dean-o, Sammy…have you missed me?"

Sam's eyes were huge when he looked at his brother, his head cocked to one side. Bobby glared at the huge, metal door.

"Who is that?" Kenna whispered.

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Meg."

**-I know, you guys hate cliff hangers, but...I love them! **

**Please reaview! :) -Leigh**


	71. Chapter 71

McKenna let out a heavy sigh and rested her head back against the wall behind her. The back of her skull dug into the hard iron surface.

"Who the crap is Meg?" she asked, glaring from one Winchester brother to the other. "She a crazy ex-girlfriend, or something?"

"Hell, no," Sam scoffed. "She's a demon."

"Yeah, we go way back," Dean added, quickly.

"Well, of course, she's a demon," Kenna said, throwing her hands in the air. "What else would she be?"

The group could hear her pacing back and forth, just outside the door, her obviously high heels clicking on the poured cement floors. "So, how's everybody doin' in there?" she called. "How's Kenna? Must be killin' her to be in there, right now, huh?"

Kenna lifted her head at the sound of her name, wondering how on earth this crazy demon girl knew her.

"I know how much you hate these tiny, basement kinda rooms, Kenna," Meg continued. "So, I know you can't stay in there forever."

Dean joined Kenna on the floor and squeezed her hand. "What do you want with us, Meg?" he called.

"Oh, I don't want you, buttercup," Meg answered. "Or Sam. I just want the girl. That's why she saw my dogs and you and your baby brother didn't. They were only after her."

"What the hell for?" Bobby shouted, as he wheeled himself closer to the huge iron door. "She's got nuthin' you want."

Meg impatiently tapped her toe on the cold, hard floor and let out a frustrated sigh. "Actually, she had everything I want, old man," she argued. "You see, I've been sent ahead on a special mission."

Sam joined Bobby by the door. "What mission?" he asked.

"Idiots," Meg said, under her breath. "Are you really that stupid? I'm here to gank the girl. If she's dead, you can't perform your precious little ritual…problem solved."

Sam looked back at Dean. She was right.

They _were _idiots.

Neither one of them cold believe that they hadn't thought of this. Killing Kenna was the only way to stop the ritual. Sam and Dean were both untouchable. The angels needed Dean, and the demons needed Sam. They were off limits for both sides. And if anything happened to either of them, they would just be brought back, anyway.

But Kenna was a different story.

She was bad news for both sides. The angels wanted her dead because she would end up killing Michael. And the demons wanted that same fate for her because she would mean the death of Lucifer.

The only supernatural being that was on their side was Cas, and he didn't have the power to bring Kenna back if anything happened to her.

Dean let his head drop forward and he ran a trembling hand over his face.

_We are so screwed…_

"How did you find me?" Kenna called and stood to her feet. Castiel had etched Enochian sigils into her ribs to protect her from anyone that might come after her. So, she didn't understand how Meg had found her in the first place.

The demon chuckled. "So, you're an idiot, too, huh?" she asked. "That fancy ink your angel pal put on you covered _you_ up just fine, but I could still see your boyfriends, girly. All I had to do was find them. I knew you wouldn't be too far off."

Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "And where's you father, Meg?" he asked. "He too busy to come get Kenna, himself, so he sends you to do his dirty work for him?"

Meg's heels clicked along the pavement again as she paced back and forth. "He's a busy man, Sammy," she said. "He had more important thing to do then come kill some useless hunter-chick."

"I can't be that useless if I'm number one on Hell's Most Wanted List," Kenna called, then turned and playfully nudged Dean with her elbow. "That makes me kinda cool, doesn't it?" she chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation.

For once, Dean didn't join in with her sarcasm, despite the fact that he actually wanted to. Instead, he squeezed her hand, stood to his feet, and pulled Kenna up with him. "Can you hear the hounds at all, anymore?" he asked.

"No," Kenna answered. "Or at least, I don't think so."

"Meg?" Sam called. "Are the Hellhounds gone?"

The demon tapped her heel against the floor. "Yes, I sent the puppies home. It's just us now...I promise."

Sam jerked his chin at the door, his gaze bouncing from Bobby, Dean, Kenna, and back again, silently asking each of them if they wanted to put there trust in a demon's word. Bobby lifted a hand and pointed to the chest of drawers by the cot that was bolted to the wall. There were plenty of guns and ammo in there, and the each man knew it.

They wouldn't do much, but they'd at least be enough of a threat to let Meg know that they really meant business. Kenna pulled her gun from the rear waistband of her jeans, while Sam, Dean, and Bobby each grabbed a weapon and armed themselves. Dean pulled Kenna aside, made sure that Sam and Bobby weren't paying attention, and pressed a quick, but passionate kiss to her lips.

"Love you," he whispered.

"Love you, too," Kenna whispered back. She cocked her weapon and took a few steps back, towards the door, wondering if it would be easier if she just handed herself over to Meg now.

The demons would just keep coming. They'd never stop. And if they got tired, the angels would just come next.

It was a vicious cycle and there was no way to stop it.

Sam made his way to the door and wrapped his fist around the big metal handle. He made sure everyone was ready and slowly began to lift it.

"Meg, we're coming out," he announced. "Step back from the door."

Sam opened the door and slipped out. Meg stood there in the same thin, dark-haired body she'd had the last time they'd seen her. She was decked out in tight jeans, leather jacket, and what were possibly the highest heels on the planet. And the same cocky grin was plastered to her face.

"Hey there, Sammy," she said, puckering her lips. She leaned to one side and watched as the rest of the group filed out from the Panic Room. For a moment her gaze rested on Bobby.

"Ohhh…" she groaned, clicking her tongue behind her teeth. "Hiya, Bobby." She cocked her head at the wheelchair. "Still in the chair, huh? I'm so sorry," she said, and pouted dramatically.

Kenna exited the big, iron room last, her gun already aimed straight ahead, at the demon's chest.

"And _you_ must be McKenna," Meg said. The demon took her time eyeing Kenna, looking her up and down. Then she turned to Dean. "Well, Dean-o, I can see why you like her so much."

"Shut it, bitch," he growled, and moved to stand in front of Kenna, protectively blocking her from anything the demon might try.

"So, what's it gonna take, Meg?" Sam asked. "What do we have to do to get you to leave?"

"Simple," she said with an easy shrug. She leaned to the side again, lifted a hand and waved at Kenna, grinning.

"Just gimme the girl."

**-Hey, guys! Quick question: **

**Do you or anybody you know make Supernatural videos on youtube? I really feel like this fanfic deserves a video, but I don't do videos, so if anybody knows anything about stuff like that PLEASE let me know! I'd love to recruit someone to make something up for this. **

**Please reveiw! Thanks! All my love. -Leigh**


	72. Chapter 72

"Well, my goodness," Meg said, eyeing Kenna like a predator after its prey. "You look pretty good for a girl that was on the verge of death only a week ago."

Kenna pursed her lips and tightened her grip on the gun in her hand. Her eyes narrowed and glared at the demon.

"Yeah, I heard you were sick," Meg continued. "I meant to send you a get well card, but the Post Office where I'm from isn't the best. Yeah, my favorite mail carrier in hell has been burning on a stake for the past few years."

She gazed deep into Kenna's eyes and smiled, ruefully. "He liked little girls a bit too much…not that you'd know anything about stuff like that though, right?"

Kenna lunged forward, shoving Dean out of the way but Bobby placed wheeled himself forward, using his wheelchair to separate her from the demon. She wasn't worth getting upset over. She wasn't good enough for Kenna to even spend any time and energy on beating the hell out of her.

Plus, it wouldn't matter anyway. It wouldn't kill her.

Meg's smile stretched across the whole length of her lips, turning up at the corners. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling, like a fine wine. Meg was obviously really getting off on the pain that her verbal abuse was causing Kenna. And the words were digging deep, whipping into her like a leather belt lashing her back, and splitting the skin.

In fact, she could almost feel the pain all over again. But that was exactly what the demon wanted, to torture her, and make her remember everything she'd worked so hard to forget.

Well, Kenna wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"You know, I've recently learned that it's a good idea to get to know someone before you judge them," Kenna said, shooting a quick glance at Sam and Dean. "But, I don't think that applies here, because I really don't like you."

Meg smiled. "Well, that's fine, sweetie," she said. "But, I know somebody who _did_ like you."

Kenna's brow arched up in question.

"That demon that possessed you a few months back," Meg grinned. "He was an old buddy of mine. Liked you a lot. He was kinda pissed that you sent him back to the Pit, but he still said to say hi."

A vision of her shoving Bobby out of the way, wheelchair and all, and tacking the demon ran through Kenna's mind, but she thought better of it.

"Anyway, that's the deal," Meg said. "Gimme the girl, and everything will turn out just fine. No gunplay, no little, mini war here, in wheelchair man's basement…I'll just take my little ol' self and go."

"No way," Dean grunted. "Kenna's not goin' anywhere. Especially not with you."

Meg rolled her eyes and let out an over dramatic sigh. "Let's not make this any harder than it has to be, Dean," she said. "If I choose to do so, I can have the hounds back here with nothing more than a little snap of my fingers. And you know better than anybody, that they tend to play with their food a little before they eat it."

Dean's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed

"Plus, I'm really a bit of a neat freak," Meg continued. "And the puppies usually leave a pretty big mess."

She turned to Sam and smiled. "I mean you remember having to clean up after them after they filleted your brother, right, Sammy?"

"Shut up, Meg," Sam growled.

"You listen here, boy," the demon hissed and shoved a finger in Sam's face. "You keep being mean and I will kill every single person in this room, take the girl, and walk out unscathed. Now relinquish your weapons."

"I'll relinquish one bullet," Dean said, lifting his sawed off and aiming it right at her head. "Just tell me where you want it."

"So, you think you're going to shoot me, Dean?" she asked, feigning sweetness.

"If I have to." He cocked his weapon. "Do I have to?"

Meg impatiently tapped her toe on the cement floor, the sound echoing off the surrounding walls.

Kenna swallowed, as her eyes danced around the room. It was dark, hard, cold, and cement. Meg had been right before. She didn't like being in small, underground places for long. They were out of the Panic Room now, yes, but they were still in the basement, still beneath the earth in a concrete pit.

As far as she knew, Kenna had always been sure that she wasn't going to hell, but if this demon got her way now, that's exactly where she'd be going. Kenna had spent her whole adult life sending demons back to hell. The numbers were probably in the hundreds. And they'd all be thrilled to see her again.

Especially the ones who had tortured her during her time on earth. Kenna closed her eyes and wondered if they planned on reliving their glory days. She wondered if they would strap her down, slice up her skin, and whip her until she was raw again.

Maybe they'd take another branding iron to her. Only this time, the skin would immediately heal again, seal over with new cells, just so they could keep going, and do it all over again.

_Hell was going to be…well…hell._

"Aww," Meg pouted, directing her attention toward Kenna. "Looks like somebody's getting a little scared…Poor baby. Would you like to come home with me?"

Kenna steeled herself against the demon's words.

"You could meet some new friends," Meg offered, chuckling. "And maybe some old one's too, right?"

Kenna lifted her gun. "You know, you'll look less smug with a bullet in your head."

She clicked her tongue behind her teeth and slowly stepped around Bobby. She bravely meandered up to the demon, straightening her spine in an effort to make herself look taller, more intimidating.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Meg," Kenna said, shaking her head. "Not today, not tomorrow…not ever." She glanced at Sam, Dean, and Bobby. "I'm staying right here. And you're going to leave them alone, too."

She lifted her arm and pointed her free hand's finger in the demon's face. "They're the only family I have an you don't freakin' mess with them."

"And you don't _freakin'_ mess with _my_ family!" Meg shouted, and glanced at the three men. "That's all these guys have ever done is screw with my family, sweetheart. And I'm done with it."

Kenna took a step back, unable to be sure about what this demon was capable of. They had already been warned about the possibility of returning hellhounds, and Kenna would be happier if she never saw one of those things ever again.

"I've let my father down more times than I can even count," Meg continued. "And this is my last chance to prove myself." She stepped forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with Kenna. "But you wouldn't understand that, _bitch_. Because you've never had a _real_ family."

That was the last straw.

Kenna lowered her aim and took a shot. The bullet sailed through the top of Meg's right foot and imbedded itself in the middle of her platform heel. Needless to say, her shoes were affectively ruined.

A raw scream tore from Meg's throat as she crumpled to her knees.

"You bitch!" she swore again. "You good for nothing, stupid bitch!"

Kenna stepped back and glanced at Sam and Dean as they rushed forward. Each brother grabbed an arm and lifted Meg off the floor, dragging her across the floor, leaving behind a trail of blood from her foot in their wake. Bobby wheeled himself forward and opened the Panic Room door. The boys pulled her along as Meg finally realized what they planned to do.

"No," she screeched. "_No_!"

Meg kicked and screamed with all her might, calling on the hellhounds, other demons, even her father to come rescue her, but no one seemed to hear. Either that, or they simply didn't care.

"Huh," Kenna shrugged, smiling. "I guess your family doesn't care about you as much as you thought."

Meg's skin began to prickle and burn as Sam and Dean dragged her over the threshold. Her body writhed in pain and her head thrashed from side to side. The room was like acid to her and she could feel her insides burning, boiling, and slowly torturing her as her body was laid across the devil's trap on the floor. She couldn't even force herself to move away as Dean pulled a vial of holy water from his coat pocket. He opened it and splashed the liquid across her face.

Meg howled.

Sam and Dean stepped back, leaving Meg to claw at the cement floor, her eyes turning black with agony. Her back curved up like a bow, her body bending in an unnatural ark. The brothers stood at the doorway and simply watched as Meg's mouth opened. Along with a harrowing scream, came black smoke, careening out from her lips. It floated above the room for a moment, hovering over the now empty body, below.

Sam and Dean crouched down, ducking their heads as the smoke whizzed past them, out of the Panic Room, up the stairs, and out of the house.

Meg was gone.

For now, at least.

Sam and Dean slowly made their way out of the room, placing their weapons back in their pockets. Dean placed a comforting hand on Kenna's shoulder and pulled her into the safety of his arms.

"It's okay, babe," he whispered. "It's over."

Kenna frowned. "No, Dean…it's not."

**-Please review, friends. Thank you! -Leigh**


	73. Chapter 73

McKenna pulled her knees up, into her chest, and rested her chin on her right kneecap. The beams from the headlights of the Impala shone through the northern window of her bedroom and landed on the opposite wall. She glanced from where she was sitting on the other windowsill and saw only the black, shiny roof of the Impala as it pulled up in front of the house. She saw the driver's side door open and watched Sam climb out, mentally noting how nice it was that Dean had let him drive.

She heard their feet hurrying up the front steps, crossing the threshold, and making their way into the house. Kenna was surprised when she heard them both bypass the kitchen and head upstairs. They came to a stop and she heard them talking just outside her bedroom door.

Sam said he was going to stay up for a little while longer and do some more research.

Dean replied that he was going to bed.

The two brothers said goodnight and went their separate ways.

Dean's landed him in Kenna's room.

"Hey," he whispered, wondering how many times he'd found her sitting there, on that same windowsill, waiting for him.

Kenna nodded a greeting, but didn't turn to look at him. "How's the girl?" she asked, still feeling guilty for shooting her the way she had.

"We got her to the hospital and the doctor said she'll be fine," Dean said, as he shrugged off his flannel shirt. "Turns out her name's Rachel. And she didn't remember a thing about Meg."

"Well, at least that's something," Kenna murmured.

Dean's fingers gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up, over his head before tossing it into Kenna's laundry hamper. He's jeans came off next and were quickly replaced by a pair of pajama pants. Kenna blushed at the sight of Dean's bare chest, bit her lip, and hid her face behind her knees.

Dean chuckled. "I thought I told you that you aren't allowed to bashful anymore."

Kenna shrugged. "Sorry. I guess I'm still getting used to…" She paused, and gazed at him for a moment. "This part of _us_."

Dean stepped forward and gently ran his hand over Kenna's arm, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin there. "You still scared?" he asked.

Kenna nodded, feeling comfortable enough to be absolutely truthful with him. "A little."

"Of what?" Dean questioned. "Me?"

She frowned, but her head bobbed forward, just slightly. "A little," she said again.

Dean closed his eyes, his expression one of self-loathing. "I thought you said I didn't hurt you last night."

Kenna immediately turned toward Dean, noticing the insecurity in his voice. She released her grasp on her knees and let her legs dangle over the side of windowsill. She reached up and touched his chin.

"You didn't hurt me, Dean," she whispered. "I mean it was a little…_uncomfortable_ for a few seconds but, that was more my fault than yours."

The left corner of his lips turned up for a moment, but her words didn't seem to make him feel any better. "Then what is it?"

Kenna gazed into his eyes, and for just a moment, Dean thought she'd be able to explain it to him, but her cheeks reddened and she looked away again. But somehow, Dean understood exactly what she couldn't say.

"Me making love to you _one_ time doesn't quite make up for ten years of…hell…does it?" he asked, slowly.

Kenna shook her head and almost smiled, grateful that he was always able to decipher what she was thinking, even when she couldn't. Dean smiled, softly and reached up to run his fingers through her hair. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose into the side of her neck, just below her jaw.

"Maybe if we…keep trying…" he whispered.

Kenna smiled shyly, turned her head, and caught his lips with hers. Without separating himself from her, Dean reached up, gently gripped her hips, and pulled her off the windowsill. He slowly tugged her toward the bed, kissing the side of her neck as he went. The back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress and she tumbled back onto the bed, pulling Dean down with her. He tugged at the covers and pushed them aside, making room for both of them, beneath their warmth.

His fingers slid beneath the hem of her t-shirt and leisurely slipped the digits upward, taking the fabric with them. He knelt down and gently began to kiss her stomach…

"Dean?" Kenna whispered, suddenly. "Who's Jo?"

His head snapped up and he just stared at her, his mouth hanging open for a long moment. "What?"

"Earlier, today. When I first saw the hellhound," Kenna said. "You said that they had come to take you to hell…and that they'd gotten Jo, too. So, I was just wondering…who's Jo?"

Dean rested his forehead against Kenna's hip, let out a heavy sigh, and pulled her t-shirt back down to cover her bare skin. The moment was officially over. He pushed himself up, crawled to the head of the bed, and sat next to Kenna.

"Jo is Jo Harvelle. She was another hunter," Dean began. "Sam and I met Jo and her mom, Ellen, a few years back. Our dad knew them. He had done some work with Jo's dad, William. He died…on the last job they did together."

Kenna placed a comforting hand on Dean's arm, silently willing him to continue.

"I told you about Sam and I trying to gank the devil, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, with the Colt," Kenna agreed. "Just before we met."

"Right," Dean said, nodding. "Well, Ellen and Jo came to help. Deep down, I knew, I _knew_ that we should've done it alone, but…I let them come anyway. And when we got into town, Meg was there, waiting for us."

Kenna frowned, squeezed Dean's hand, and a made a rough sound in the back of her throat. Dean looked up and almost smiled at her. He liked it that Kenna was so protective of him.

"Anyway, she'd brought some hellhounds with her," Dean continued, and his gaze wandered off, taking him somewhere else. "We didn't know what else to do so, I shot one of 'em, and we all started running. One of the hounds grabbed my leg, pulled me down. Jo turned around and started shooting. I told her to stay back, but she kept on coming, kept on shooting."

Kenna felt his hand trembling within hers, and she gave it a squeeze.

"She kept shooting the thing until it was dead, but…" Dean paused. His eyes were shiny. "But another one came outta nowhere. It took her down and it ripped into her stomach. There was blood…_everywhere_. I ran over and grabbed her, picked her up, and carried her into the nearest building. It was a hardware store."

Kenna had never heard this story before, but she already knew what the ending was going to be like. And she didn't like it at all. She traced her fingers over the back of Dean's hand, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort.

"Jo was dead, long before we got her into that store. Hell, maybe even before the hellhound got her. I don't know," Dean shrugged. "She was paralyzed and her guts were almost hanging out. She was almost unconscious and losing blood real fast, but you know what she did?"

Kenna frowned and shook her head.

"She told us to build a bomb, using the supplies and stuff in the store," Dean answered.

"She was willing to sacrifice her own life for the rest of you," Kenna commented, almost smiling.

"Yeah, she knew she was dying, and that Ellen, Sam, and I had a job to do, so she was willing to give herself up to get us outta there, but Ellen—" Dean choked, and ran his free hand over his face, visibly forcing himself not to cry. "Ellen just couldn't leave her baby there, all alone like that..."

Kenna closed her eyes. If it had been her daughter, she would've done the same thing.

A tear slid down her cheek and Kenna sat there for a moment, wondering just when her heart had softened so much that she was able to mourn for two people that she had never even met.

"Sam and I were about a block away when the store blew up," Dean said, and looked up at Kenna, just before he finally concluded the story. "Ellen and Jo, both died that day…and it all turned out to be for nothing."

Dean closed his eyes, let out a heavy sigh, and snuggled down, beneath the covers. Kenna turned on her side, propped herself up on her elbow, and gazed down at Dean. She ran her hand down his bare arm until she reached his hand, and laced her fingers through his.

"But they didn't die for nothing, Dean," Kenna argued gently. "They died for you. And Sam."

Dean nodded, but she could tell he didn't actually believe her.

"I'm guessing Jo was pretty important to you, huh?" Kenna asked, as innocently as she could.

Dean almost chuckled. "Maybe she could've been. If things had turned out differently."

He turned onto his side and faced her. "But if things had turned out _too _differently, I never would've met you."

Kenna smiled. "Do you think she would've liked me?"

"I think so," Dean said, nodding. "And Ellen? Man, she was just as badass as you are. She would've freakin' _loved_ you."

Kenna grinned, released her head, and rested it against the pillow. She stretched her legs and they collided with Dean's. She had spent her whole life sleeping alone and it was going to take a while to get used to sharing...

She suddenly heard the even keel of Dean's breathing and looked up. His eyes had drifted closed, and the corners of his lips were turned up in a tiny smile.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and snuggled closer to him.

Sharing a bed was going to take some getting used to, yes, but the time spent would be well worth it…

**-More coming soon! Please review! Love, Leigh**


	74. Chapter 74

Sam tossed another large, cut log in McKenna's direction and watched as she painlessly hefted it up onto a nearby tree stump. She shoved a chisel into the top of the log, jerked it down and began to peel the bark away. She had already done an impressive job on a few other logs and was now working on her fourth. Her palms were rough and her fingers were bloody, but as far as Sam could tell, she thought it was worth it.

He looked up at her and chuckled.

"What?" she asked, looking up from her latest pine log.

"It's just funny," he said, shrugging. "A week ago, you were dying of cancer, and now…here you are, working outside with wood, and doing manual labor."

Kenna grinned. "Nothing short of a miracle, I guess, huh?"

She turned the log, pressed the chisel into the base of the wood, tugged it down, and removed another thick layer of bark from the pine. She, Sam, and Dean had spent the whole morning in the woods, chopping down the pine trees they would need to build the giant sigil.

At one point, Dean had actually relinquished his axe to Kenna and allowed her to try chopping down one of the trees, but after nearly losing his head in the process, he demoted her to bark removal and headed back into the woods by himself.

Kenna peeled away the last bit of bark on the log, lifted it, and tossed it to the side with the others. Sam was right. Her strength had returned, and even seemed to bring some new friends with it.

But no amount of strength from any of them really mattered, because whoever had come up with such an overly involved and intricate ritual, requiring so many minute details deserved to be killed.

"If I find out that they're still alive, I'm going to take all my guns and knives, and hunt them down," Kenna muttered to herself, more than anyone else. "Either that or I'll set them on fire…yeah, it's been a long time since I set anybody on fire…"

Sam placed another log on Kenna's tree stump and tried his best not to laugh. Even though he did wholeheartedly agree with her. If and when she decided to hunt this ritual's creator down, he would gladly plan to go with her.

Suddenly, McKenna's expression changed. Sam frowned and jerked his chin at her. "What is it?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't know…I just kinda realized something."

"What?"

She dug the chisel into the next pine long, and left it to hang there as she turned towards Sam. "Well, if this ritual works out the way we want it to…I'm going to be _killing _the guy who healed me," she began. "I mean, no matter what he wants to do to you and Dean, Michael still took my cancer away."

She paused and shrugged her shoulders. "And I don't really know how I feel about that."

Sam let out a heavy sigh and dropped the log in his hands, letting the huge piece of wood roll away across the grass. He made his way towards Kenna, removed her current log from the tree stump and sat down. He lifted his hand and patted the surface with his palm, silently asking Kenna to join him.

She smiled softly and climbed up onto the large tree stump, scooting her body up until she was finally sitting next to Sam.

He looked down at his gloved hands and slowly peeled the protective leather coverings away.

"Kenna, Michael didn't heal you because he's a good angel and he wanted to do it out of the goodness of his heart," he began. "He did it just to prove that he could. And to use you to get to Dean. This was his plan all along. To make you feel like _this_."

Kenna nodded, though her heart ached at the thought.

"I always thought that angels were nice," she whispered. "I thought they were really pretty people with big white wings that flew around. I thought their job was to look out for us. And take care of us…keep us safe."

Sam smiled sadly and glanced up at the trees, watching as the leaves blew in wind. "I used to think that, too," Sam murmured. "But Castiel told Dean and I something different."

Kenna frowned. "What's that?"

"He said that angels are actually warriors first," Sam explained. "That their first job is that of a fighter, not a protector, or a comforter, but a…" He paused, and frowned for a moment. "But as people who…kick ass and enjoy doing it."

Kenna chuckled and playfully nudged Sam's arm with hers. "So, they're kinda like us, huh?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I guess they are."

"But Cas is different," Kenna argued. "He protects us, looks out for us. Sometimes, it even seems like he _likes_ us."

"Well, I know he likes _you_," Sam agreed with a smile. "And he _is _different, but he hasn't always been that way. He used to be as big of a dick as the rest of 'em."

Kenna frowned. She found it hard to believe that the sweet, humble, and dare she say, sometimes humorous, angel she knew used to be a jerk. But if Sam was saying it, it must be true.

"Hell, he even threatened to throw Dean back into hell a couple of times," Sam continued. "And he hated me when he first met me. Called me 'the boy with the demon blood'."

Kenna reached up and patted her hand on Sam's arm. "But he doesn't think that anymore, Sammy," she offered. "He seems to view you as a friend."

Sam nodded his thanks and lifted his head to sky again. "I'm just wondering where God is in all this," he muttered. "I mean, Cas has been looking for Him for a really long time."

Kenna couldn't help but smile. "Maybe He got tired of being chased away by everybody."

"That's no excuse to leave us alone like this," Sam argued.

"You almost sound like Dean," Kenna said.

Sam shrugged. "I used to have your faith, Kenna," he whispered. "But now…I don't know, anymore."

She reached out and squeezed Sam's hand. "I told you once that you were a good man, Sam," she whispered. "Don't make me say it again."

Sam chuckled, kissed her forehead, and handed his gloves over to her. "Here," he said, softly. "You need these more than I do."

Kenna slipped them over her broken, bloody hands and smiled up at him. "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam returned her grin and Kenna watched as he made his way into the woods to collect more cut pine logs from Dean. She could still hear him hacking away at the trees in the far corner of Bobby's property. She watched Sam step into the woods and the trees instantly swallowed him up in seconds, leaving her all alone.

Kenna wiggled her fingers inside the thick work gloves that Sam had given her as she turned back to heft the next log onto the tree stump. The bright sun felt warm and welcome against her back, and she couldn't help but smile, but when a tall shadow blocked her warmth, she frowned.

"Did you decide to take your gloves back, Sam?" she asked, with a halfhearted chuckle.

"Nope," a deep voice answered.

Kenna immediately whirled around and found a pair of big, black eyes staring down at her. A huge hand came up wrapped itself around her neck.

"Hi, sweetheart," the huge demon grinned, picked her up by the neck, and tossed her across the clearing. Her body flew through the air like a rag doll and slammed into a tree.

The back of her head smacked against the bark and everything went black…

**-Insert evil laugh here...Please review! -Leigh**


	75. Chapter 75

Stars burst behind McKenna's eyelids when she could finally open them again. The sunlight filtered through the trees above, just before the tall, dark shadow covered the light again. She opened her mouth, tried to call for help, but a huge hand clamped itself over her mouth.

"You are _really_ startin' to piss everybody off, little lady," the demon growled, as it leaned in, close to her ear. "Meg came runnin' home with her tail between her legs, so she sent me to finish the job."

The demon ran its hand through her hair, tangling its fingers within the long, blonde strands. It lifted a handful of the tresses beneath its nose, and inhaled. "Mmm, I love the smells up here…"

Kenna jerked her aching head away from the demon and tried to breathe around its confining fingers.

"But, you know what? There's no rules that say I can't have a little fun before I kill ya," the demon moaned low in its throat and pressed its host's lips against her neck.

Kenna squealed from behind its painful grip over mouth. She thrashed her head from side to side and tried to scream. She could still here Dean's axe chopping away. She could almost hear Sam laughing at something his brother had said.

They weren't that far away, but it was just far enough…

The demon slithered its free hand beneath the hem of her shirt and touched her scarred brand. It suckled at her neck again and smiled against her skin. "I heard about this little thing," it whispered, running the pad of its thumb over the scar. Its black eyes gazed down to take a look. "Ohhh…how _pretty_ is that?"

Kenna whimpered and tears stung her eyes. She looked up at the demon and pleaded with it to let her go. To release itself from the poor man it was inside of, but the demon only smiled.

"Don't worry, baby doll," it whispered, almost kindly. "Sex with a demon ain't so bad…just ask your buddy, Sammy…"

Kenna finally opened her mouth and bit down, hard, on the demon's palm. She lifted her knee and jabbed it up, as hard as she could. It didn't make target with what she was originally aiming for, but it was close enough.

The demon howled in pain and grabbed its throbbing inner thigh, giving her just enough time to roll away and force herself to her feet.

"Sam!" she screamed. "Dean!"

The sound of her own voice nearly made her black out, and she fell to her knees. The pain at the back of her skull from where she hit her head, radiated down, into her spine, and spread out through the rest of her body. She could hear the demon getting up again. It was coming closer…

"I'll be gentler than the Brothers," the demon cackled. "I promise."

A huge boot collided with her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. Kenna screamed in pain, rolled onto her stomach, and clawed at the ground, trying to get away.

_The one time I don't have my gun…_

A heavy knee came down and pressed into her back, stopping her from going any further. The demon leaned closer, its lips pressing against her ear. "Man, they told me you were quite the little spit-fire, but _damn_…"

She heard the familiar _snikt_ of a knife being removed from a leather sheath, and felt the cold metal pressing into the back of her neck.

The demon chuckled low, in its throat, "I'm going to enjoy this, you little _bitch_."

The evil thing was enjoying Kenna's pain too much to hear the heavy, running footfalls of two men coming from the woods. It was too engrossed in sick pleasure to hear the cocking of a weapon, or even the sound of a shot being fired.

It only took one bullet through the skull from the gun that could kill anything, and the body, as well as the demon…was dead.

Sam and Dean rushed forward, tossed the demon out of the way, and helped Kenna roll out from beneath its body. They watched the skin on its face crackle with a red light of hellfire just before its eyes closed for the last time.

Dean pulled Kenna into his arms, ran his fingers through her hair, forcing her dazed eyes to look at him.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered. "Look at me…you okay?"

Kenna quickly jerked herself from his arms, and pushed herself up from the ground, despite the mass amount of pain she was in. She went to Sam, ripped the Colt from his hand and fired two more rounds into the demon's skull, just to be safe.

Then, she tossed the gun on the ground and tried to limp away. But her body required more than just her pride to keep her up.

Kenna's knees buckled, but she didn't even manage to hit the ground. Two strong pairs of arms grabbed her, and the longer of the two picked her up.

"You got her?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

"I'll go take care of the body, then," Dean said, softly. "You get her back to the house."

Kenna's neck craned back, within the crook of Sam's elbow as he carefully made his way back to Bobby's. He looked down at her and tried his best to offer, what he hoped was a comforting smile.

She weakly linked her arms around his neck and looked up at the darkening sky. She couldn't help but wonder if things would ever look bright again.

**-Sorry so short, more coming soon! PLEASE REVIEW! It makes me feel loved. -Leigh**


	76. Chapter 76

"What happened?"

Kenna lifted her aching head and saw Bobby as he wheeled himself out the front door. The front porch was still at least fifty feet away, but she could already see the white in Bobby's knuckles as he nervously gripped his wheels.

"I'm all right, Bobby," Kenna called, forcing her voice to sound better than she actually felt. She glanced down, and realized that the front of her shirt was torn, leaving half of her bra exposed. She wanted to reach up and fix herself, but even that was too big of a job.

"What the _hell_ happened?" Bobby said again, completely disregarding Kenna's words. He rolled back just enough to get out of Sam's way and quickly followed him into the house. Sam gently set Kenna down on the couch in the living room and watched as Bobby brought over a first aid kit.

"Sam?" he asked, the single word saying more than even Bobby understood.

"Demon," Sam answered.

"And?"

Sam frowned and turned his back to Kenna, in an effort for her not to hear him. "And we almost didn't get there in time."

Bobby glared up at Sam, narrowed his eyes, and growled, "I swear boy, if I hadn't helped raise you and your brother up from pups, I'd take you both out back and shoot you myself, _dammit_!"

Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, unable to handle the disappointment in Bobby's eyes one second longer.

"And where is your jackass brother, by the way?" Bobby asked.

"Taking care of the body," Sam answered, quickly. "We used the Colt."

"Well, at least that's somethin'," Bobby muttered, and finally turned his attention toward Kenna. "All right, sweetheart, let me take a look at you."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Bobby."

But Kenna wasn't fine. Not even close.

Her head was killing her. Her belly and right side felt as though it was on fire. Her jaw felt tight and her lip was swollen. The center of her back ached from where the demon had pressed its knee into her spine, and her left eye was starting sting.

She could still feel the demon's lips at her neck, could hear its words in her ears…

She felt like hell, and based on how Bobby and Sam were looking at her, she probably looked like it, too.

"I'm fine," she said again, and gently pushed Bobby's hand, and the alcohol soaked cotton ball within it, out of her way. She forced herself up, to her feet and limped to the bottom the stairs.

"You need to let me clean you up, sweetheart," Bobby called, gently, though he already knew the answer would be a resounding no. She was much too prideful, and possibly too traumatized to let him help her.

"I'll just go take a bath," she said, gruffly, but Bobby saw her chin tremble, saw the following tightness in her jaw. He knew that look.

_She's gonna wait until she's upstairs to start crying…_

Kenna gripped her right hand on the banister, held her side with her left, and slowly began to drag herself up the stairs. She almost tripped more than once, and Sam rushed forward to help her, but Bobby quickly lifted a hand to stay him.

"Let her do it," he grunted.

Sam frowned at Bobby, but did as he was told.

Kenna finally reached the top of the stairs, just as Dean made his way into the house. He watched her limp down the hall, and out of sight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. He stepped into the living room and glared at Bobby and Sam.

"What the hell are you two doin'?" he asked, arms lifted in question. "She gets the crap beat out of her by a demon and you let her go clean _herself_ up?"

"Simmer down, boy," Bobby grunted. "She has to do this on her own."

Dean let out a heavy sigh, reminding himself that Bobby knew Kenna longer, and therefore better, than he did. If Bobby said he had to do this on her own, than he was probably right. But still, Dean had to know why.

He sat down on the couch, across from Bobby, and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He heard the water in the bathroom upstairs turn on and he jerked his chin at the ceiling. "What's the deal?" he asked.

Sam stepped forward and joined his brother on the couch, clearly as curious about Kenna's reasoning as Dean was.

"Kenna doesn't handle violence well, boys," Bobby said.

Sam and Dean looked at Bobby, a questioning 'what the hell' expression painted over both of their faces.

Dean shrugged. "Bobby, all we do is violence," he argued. "We're always shootin' demons, carvin' up monsters, hackin' off vampire noggins…"

"Yeah, _you_ do that," Bobby said. "And _Kenna_ does that. She has no problem _givin' out_ the hurt, but she doesn't handle it very well when it comes back on her…it kinda seems to remind her of a few things."

Sam and Dean frowned, both of them completely understanding how Kenna could feel that way.

"But haven't you noticed?" Bobby continued. "She rarely gets hurt during a hunt, but when she does…" he paused, and glanced toward the stairs. "She does this. She has to mend herself. Never lets anybody help her…not even me."

Dean pursed his lips together in frustration as he fought against his immediate instinct to run upstairs and prove Bobby wrong by taking care of her, himself.

Dean would never say it to her face. He knew she'd take it the wrong way, but Kenna was _his_ girl.

His to protect, love, and right now, take care of.

"Sorry, Bobby," Dean grunted, pressed his hands into his knees, and pushed himself up, off the couch. "But the rules change today."

He made his way toward the stairs, but stopped when Bobby called his name.

"Dean, Sam said you two were almost too late gettin' to her," he mumbled. "And based on how roughed up she looked…I'm wonderin' just how late you were."

Dean looked back at Sam and watched his little brother bow his head in shame. Dean shook his head, gripped the banister and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the bathroom door, he prayed that Kenna wasn't already going on emotional lockdown.

This was the kind of thing that could prove to be a major set back for them, or worse yet, it could ruin everything they had.

Dean lifted a hand and softly knocked on the bathroom door with the back of his knuckles. "Kenna?" he whispered. "It's me."

There was a long silence, and for a moment, he wondered if she was going to tell him to hit the road, or maybe not even answer him at all.

"Come in." Kenna's voice was so soft, so quiet that he almost didn't hear her, but the moment he did, he instantly opened the door and let himself in.

Dean found McKenna sitting on the edge of the large, claw foot tub. She was still fully dressed, and absentmindedly running her bloody fingers back and forth over the brass faucet. The large bathroom was quickly filling up with steam as the tub filled up with hot water. Kenna dipped her hands into the water, letting her fingers dance over the foggy surface.

She winced and shrugged her shoulders within the denim jacket she wore. She glanced up at Dean, but wouldn't allow her eyes to make contact with his. "I couldn't…get my stuff off," she mumbled.

Dean almost smiled at her innate ability to ask for help, without actually asking for it. He took a few slow steps forward and gently helped her to her feet. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric of her coat and slowly slipped it down, past her arms, the wince on her face matching his own.

"I'm sorry, babe," he whispered, as he finally removed the dirt caked jacket. His hands went up, close to her chest, ready to help her unbutton her top, but she made a frightened noise, low in her throat, and took a step back.

"It's okay," he said.

Kenna shook her head. "I can do the rest, myself, Dean," she whimpered.

"Kenna, let me help you."

"I'm all right," she argued, and tried to unbutton the torn shirt, herself, and failed, but quickly tried again. The movements were hurting her, bringing tears to her eyes, but she wouldn't stop. Dean gently placed his hands on her shoulders, tried to still her, but she jerked away, and nearly fell.

Dean had enough.

"Kenna, stop it," he demanded, his gentleness gone.

"No," she gritted through her teeth. "I can do this."

"_Kenna_!" Dean raised his voice at her, grabbed her wrists within his hands, and pulled her into his arms. She struggled, and tried to break free, but he placed his hand against the base of her spine, and only held her tighter.

"Stop…" he whispered into her hair, close to her ear, his tenderness slowly returning. "Stop, now. It's all right."

Kenna finally stopped her struggling and slowly relaxed her body against his. The dam broke free. A barrage of tears streamed down her face, over her cheeks, and onto Dean's shoulder. He didn't seem to mind.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed into his chest.

"Shh…" Dean crooned, running his fingers through her tangled hair. "It's okay."

"He said things," Kenna whimpered.

"Like what?" Dean asked. He noticed her distraction and took the opportunity to pull back and place a few inches between their bodies, just enough for him to unbutton her top.

"He said he was there to kill me," Kenna explained, slowly. "But that there weren't any rules that said he couldn't have some fun with me first."

Dean closed his eyes, and angrily grit his teeth.

So, that explains the ripped shirt…

"Did he…?" Dean paused, unable to finish the question.

"No," Kenna said. "But, I'm sure he would have…if you and Sam hadn't shown up when you did."

"I'm so sorry, babe," Dean said, softly, as he helped her out of the remainder of her clothes. "We never should've left you alone."

He did his best to ignore her nudity, and only pay attention to the parts of her that were hurt. A huge red contusion was forming on her side, and he reached up and gently pressed his palm into it. She hissed in a sharp breath, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Sorry," Dean whispered, wincing with her. He slid his fingers over her soft flesh, pressing into her side, checking for any possible cracks in her ribs. After a few minutes, he still hadn't found any. "I think you're okay, here."

He gently took hold of her shoulders and turned her around, eyeing the large, dark bruise he found in the middle of her back. He pressed his fingers down her spine, checking for any bumps and knots. Thankfully, he didn't find anything too major.

"I think you're gonna be okay, babe," Dean said, softly. "After you get cleaned up, I'll put a cold compress on your bruises, all right?"

Kenna nodded, took the hand Dean offered her, and slowly climbed into the tub. She sunk into the hot water, thankful that the tub held enough water to cover every sore and beaten inch of her. She almost smiled as she watched Dean struggling to be respectful of her modesty. It was possibly the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

"We'll get some aspirin into you," he said. "It'll help with the pain and hopefully, start to get the swelling to go down."

Without another word, Dean turned his back and quickly headed toward the door. Deep down, Kenna wanted to ask him to stay with her, but she simply couldn't do it.

_I've asked for more than enough help for one day…_

She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and did her best to will away the voice of the demon in her head.

Dean peeked in at McKenna one last time, closed his eyes for a moment, and couldn't help but blame himself for everything.

**-Please REVIEW...I miss them so... :(**


	77. Chapter 77

Dean cupped the back of McKenna's wet head as he gently lowered her down onto her bed. He took hold of her legs and carefully placed them beneath her blankets, then tucked them in beneath her arms. He let his callused fingers gently play over her bloody ones, enjoying the contrast of his rough skin over the softness of hers.

He looked up at smiled at the shirt she was wearing.

"How is it that my AC/DC t-shirt looks better on _you _than it does on _me_?" he asked.

Kenna smiled softly at his compliment and shrugged her shoulders. Her happy expression instantly changed to one of pain. "_Ow_," she whined.

"Easy," Dean scolded, gently running his fingers through her wet hair. "Just remember, no matter how bad you feel right now, you're gonna feel ten times worse in the morning."

Kenna rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Gee, thanks."

"Don't worry," Dean offered, teasing her. "I'll just kiss it all better later, okay?" He lifted her hand to his smiling lips and placed a gentle kiss on her bruised knuckles.

Kenna smiled and even managed to lift a hand and run her fingers down the side of his face for a moment. "Mmm...I love you, Dean," she whispered, dazedly.

Dean grinned. "That's the happy pills talkin', isn't it?" he chuckled.

Sam had managed to find some good pain killers in Bobby's cabinets and was kind enough to pass them on to Kenna. Of course, none of them bothered to ask what Bobby was doing with such powerful pills, but they decided to play Army on this one.

"Don't ask, don't tell, I guess. Right, Bobby?" Sam had chuckled.

"I like this stuff," Kenna slurred, her head rolling back and forth across the pillow. Dean tried his best not to laugh at her.

Kenna's eyelids were growing heavy, but she fought hard, to keep them open. "I'm tired," she whispered.

"Then go to sleep, babe," Dean said.

"No," she moaned. "Bad dreams."

Dean shook his head, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's okay," he promised. "I'm here."

Kenna smiled and his little promise seemed to be enough. Her eyes drooped closed and she slowly drifted off to sleep. Dean sat on the bed with her, holding her hand, and watching over her for a long time. His gaze ran over the length of her body, bouncing from one bruise to the next.

By the time she had been ready to get out of the tub, Kenna had been so sore that Dean had to pick her up and get her out of the water, himself. He even had to grab a towel and dry her off.

_Not that I would ever complain about that…_

Even though he knew that she would never blame him for it, Dean felt responsible for Kenna's attack. Of course, even now, he knew that there was no way of knowing that hell would send another demon topside to clean up Meg's mess, but he at least, should have thought of the possibility.

And he knew that Sam felt the same way. After he had come upstairs to give Kenna the pills, Sam had sat there at her bedside for a long time, holding her hand, and just looking at her.

Just like Dean was doing now.

Kenna stayed asleep, her eyes shut heavily, and her breathing even and steady. After a few more minutes spent watching her, Dean kissed her forehead again and slowly rose to his feet. He wanted to stay with her, maybe even climb into bed and drift off to sleep, himself, but there was too much to worry about.

He and Sam had so much more work to do.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"_So…you really married me, huh?" _

"_Kenna, we've been married fourteen months, and you still have to ask?"_

"_I'm just so lucky, you know. I guess I just still don't believe it sometimes…"_

Kenna smiled in her sleep as she dreamed of the place in time that Zechariah had sent her. He had sent her to prove a point, but she ended up learning as lesson that he hadn't intended to teach.

That she could be happy. Content.

Whether it was in some crazy angel's alternate reality, or one of her own making.

Kenna's whole body screamed in agony as she rolled over onto her side, but her mouth quickly joined in the chorus when she saw a man standing in the corner of her room. The drugs in her system clouded her vision, and it took her a moment to recognize who it was.

"Castiel?"

The angel was half alive and swaying on his feet. His trench coat was torn and hanging off his left shoulder. His right eye was black and nearly swollen shut. Blood dripped from his nose and his bottom lip was split, wide open.

"Oh, God, Cas," Kenna whimpered as she forced herself out of bed. The angel moaned and swayed forward, clutching Kenna's shoulder, and pulling her to the floor with him.

"Cas?" Kenna whispered. "Cas, can you hear me?

He didn't answer and she cupped his blood-covered face in her hands, lifting his chin as she tried to get a good look at him. He was unconscious, limp, and a heck of a lot heavier than she ever thought he'd be.

"Dean?" she called, hoping it wasn't so late that he was already in bed. "Dean!"

She pulled her leg out from under Castiel, letting the floor take the brunt of his weight. She couldn't even imagine what had happened to him.

And why he hadn't called to ask them for help.

Dean came running through the doorway, still fully dressed, with Sam hot, on his heels. They joined Kenna on the floor, shocked at the sight of the beaten, unconscious angel.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Kenna answered, quickly. "He just showed up in here."

Her eyes stung with tears at the ache her hold on him was causing, despite the painkillers Sam had given her earlier.

She hoped he had more. Clearly, Castiel was going to need them, too.

**-Big favor! I have someone who's offered to do a trailer/video for this fanfic and she needs some ideas about who should play McKenna. Our only specifications are that she be blonde, NOT a size 0, and NOT too mainstream. NOT somebody that everybody will recognize right away. **

**If you have some ideas, please let me know! **

**I SO love you guys! -Leigh :)**


	78. Chapter 78

Sam and Dean carefully lowered Castiel's limp, unconcious body onto Sam's bed.

The angel didn't say a word, not even a pained moan. Nothing. His eyes remained tightly shut and he showed absolutely no sign of waking up. Dean straightened, rubbed the back of his neck, and groaned. He looked up at McKenna and frowned.

"Did he say anything to you?" he asked.

"Not a thing," she answered, her voice still slightly slurred from the painkillers. "I woke up and he was standing in the corner of my room. Dead on his feet."

Dean's eyes roamed over Kenna's stiff body, his gaze settling on a deep red stain embedded into the front of her shirt. His eyes grew large and he rushed forward. "What the hell is all that?"

"It's all right," Kenna muttered, gently pushing Dean's questing hands away. "It's Cas's blood, not mine."

Dean nodded his head, and backed away, turning his attention to the angel again. He lifted his gaze and looked at Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. The last time we found him like this was when the angels freaked out and beat the hell out of each other."

Kenna's balked. "You mean angel on angel violence?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "It was…brutal."

Kenna shook her head, unable to believe this new information. "Wow," she grunted. "So, you're saying that only another angel could do this to him?"

Dean looked up at her and almost chuckled. "Pretty much." He reached up and affectionately patted the angel's side. "You wouldn't think so, but behind the tie and trench coat, he's a pretty tough little dude."

Kenna looked down at Castiel and frowned. The expression shot a wave of pain throughout the rest of her body, but it didn't matter. To her, he had always been a strong, all-powerful, supernatural being. He was an angel of the Lord, and in her mind, nothing could touch him.

But clearly, she had been wrong.

The angel she had placed high, up on an ivory tower was just a man. He bled the same blood the rest of them did, and could therefore die the same way, too.

And somehow, she wasn't even disappointed. Instead, she was just…scared.

Kenna let her gaze wander over his wounds, noting that there was no rhyme or reason to any of them. They were all placed sporadically over his body, meant to go anywhere that would hurt him the most, rendering him too weak to fight. And that was based on only what she could see.

None of them knew what horrors lay beneath the bloody fabric of his clothing. And Kenna couldn't help but notice that Castiel looked just as bad as she did.

_Maybe even worse…_

"Is there anything that might have done this to him?" she asked, as she sat down on the bed next to the angel. "Something other than an angel?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know…maybe…"

"What about a demon?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other. It made sense. The demons were mad as hell at Kenna, and since they were having trouble getting to her, it would be really easy, and even more satisfying, to take down an angel.

"That'd make an awful lot of sense," Sam shrugged. "Cas was supposed to bring us the holy oil for the ritual, and the demons don't want the ritual to happen, so…"

"They kick Cas's ass so he can't bring it to us," Dean nodded, completing Sam's thought. "Geez, these sons-a-bitches are just gonna keep goin' until everybody's ass is kicked."

Kenna ignored Dean's complaints and carefully began to remove Castiel's trench coat. The brothers continued to argue and run over theories together, while Kenna's sore fingers tried to disengage Cas's tie from around his neck. She tossed the thin, blue material to the floor, joining the bloody coat.

"We could summon the demons here," Sam offered.

"And then what?" Dean asked. "Use the Colt to kill _all_ of 'em? Yeah, Sammy, that's an awesome plan!"

Kenna rolled her drowsy eyes, and shot a hard glare in their direction. "Hey, whenever you two girls get bored with your whining, can somebody get me some medical supplies so I can start patching him up?"

Kenna's words seemed to bring the brothers out from under the spell of their argument, and into reality again. Sam closed his eyes, silently kicking himself for forgetting about what was important. And right now, that was Cas.

"I'll go get you some stuff, Kenna" Sam said, and quickly left the room.

Dean almost smiled as he watched Kenna's swollen fingers fumble with the buttons on Castiel's bloody shirt. Her head swayed forward and her eyes drooped closed more than once. She had said that Cas was dead on his feet.

But as far as Dean could tell, Kenna was the pot, calling the kettle black.

He reached down and gently tugged her fingers from Cas's shirt, and pulled her to her feet. "Sam and I will take care of him," he promised. "You need to get back to bed."

Kenna attempted to roll her eyes at him, but the motion only made her dizzy. She pitched forward and collapsed against his chest.

Dean caught her, and couldn't help but smile into her hair. "Wow, look at that," he chuckled. "I win."

Without another word from either of them, Dean led Kenna back to her room, and back into bed. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, pressed a tender kiss just above her black eye, and made his way back into Sam's room.

He gazed down and looked at the beaten, bloody angel on the bed, and a single tear slid down his cheek. He reached up and wiped it away just as Sam entered the room, his arms full of some much needed medical supplies.

"You okay?" he asked.

Dean frowned and let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Sammy," he muttered.

Sam peeled back the blood soaked fabric of Castiel's shirt and winced at the sight of the angel's extensive wounds.

"This wasn't your fault, Dean," he offered, softly. "Neither was Kenna."

Dean nodded, but he really didn't believe it. And his brother knew it.

"We gotta keep going, Dean," Sam murmured, as he began to wipe away the blood from Cas's shoulder. "I mean, that's what we always do, right? We just pick ourselves up and keep going."

"I'm tryin', Sammy," Dean promised. "But, I just don't know how much more of this I can take…"


	79. Chapter 79

A blinding white-hot pain burned behind her eyelids, even before McKenna managed to actually open them. Her head was pounding, her back was stinging, and it felt as though someone had taken a knife and carved a masterpiece into every cell of her body, cut her to shreds, and scattered the pieces to all four corners of the earth.

_And if I have to go get all my pieces back, myself, I'm going to start throwing punches…_

Dean had been right.

It was the next morning, and she officially felt like hell.

Her head swam in the liquidity of complete and utter pain. But of course, things could always be worse.

A shaft of sunlight slowly peeked through the window, and slammed into the center of her forehead like a laser. It cut like a knife, digging into her skull, and shooting straight down to her stomach. She could feel the bile rising up in the back of her throat, but she quickly fought the urge and forced herself to swallow until the moment passed. Kenna couldn't think of anything worse than throwing up after being repeatedly kicked in the ribs. It would probably hurt more than anything she could ever even begin to imagine.

She felt a few tears sting her eyes. Her body wanted, desperately _needed_ to cry, but Kenna couldn't allow that either.

_That would hurt, too…_

Her stomach growled. Apparently, her body wanted food, too. But that would result in a big, resounding no as well.

She was curious to know what time it was, but she couldn't even force herself to turn her head and look at the clock on the nightstand. Her fingers gripped the sheets below, like claws, digging into the mattress, and shooting a blinding, searing pain from the tips of her fingers, straight up to the top of her head.

"Holy _crap_," she moaned, and even the utterance of two words hurt.

"Kenna?"

Just beyond her peripheral vision, she saw Dean's shadow hop down from the windowsill. The sound of his feet hitting the hardwood floor sent a painful shiver zipping up her torso. She shuddered beneath the blankets.

"Hey, babe," he whispered, and reached out to take her hand.

"Don't touch me!" she growled, gritting her teeth.

Dean's hands went up and his feet stepped back. His expression was one of horror, full of self-disgust. He probably thought she had had a nightmare, and would never allow his hands anywhere near her again.

"No, it's okay," Kenna whispered, quickly. "It's not that, just…just _don't_ touch me."

She moaned, long and low, from the back of her throat. The air was so thick with pain she could drown in it. In fact, she wished she could. Death was starting to look quite appealing.

"Where do you hurt?" Dean asked. He stayed where he was, clearly fighting the urge to touch her, and heal her pain. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, knowing he couldn't even sit down on the bed and hold her hand. There was nothing he could do for her, and he absolutely hated it.

"_Everywhere_," Kenna finally answered. She lifted her gaze and stared at him for a moment. Even her eyelids hurt. "Where's my gun?"

Dean wanted to laugh, but quickly thought better of it. Her request for the gun might not have been so she could shoot herself. It might've been so she could shoot him.

"Which one do you want?" he asked, teasing her. "The one under your pillow, the one on your nightstand, or the one in your underwear drawer?"

Kenna arched a painful eyebrow at him. "How do you know about the one in my underwear drawer?"

Dean shrugged and a slow, steady blush crept up, into his cheeks. "I knew absolutely nothing about you when we first met," he explained. "I didn't trust you, so I had to know exactly where you kept your weapons."

Kenna's jaw went slack. "You saw my underwear _that_ long ago?"

His blush deepened, but he still managed to wink at her. "I like those maroon, silk ones the best."

Kenna wanted to be offended, but couldn't manage it. A soft chuckle warmed in the center of her chest, but it quickly turned to a sharp, blinding pain.

"_Ohhh_, Dean, don't make me laugh," she groaned from behind a pained smile. Her fingers slowly slid across the sheets, inching forward until they were closer to Dean's. If she sat up, she'd be able to reach him, but it was a movement her body couldn't handle yet. Dean smiled and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. He lightly gripped her fingers between his own.

Somehow, Kenna managed to force the corners of her lips to turn up, but Dean didn't follow suit. He looked down at their joined hands, past his callused fingers and straight to the cuts and scratches covering hers. Despite the long bath she had taken the night before, she still had dirt lodged beneath her fingernails.

She had clawed the earth, dug her fingers into the ground, below in a desperate effort to pull herself away from the demon. It had tried to destroy her, kill her.

It had tried to…

Dean closed his eyes, squeezed them shut on a heavy sigh. "I'm so sorry, Kenna," he whispered. "I should have been with you. I should've known better…"

Kenna silenced his words with a simple squeeze on his fingers. It hurt her more than she could say, but touching him was well worth the pain.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time apologizing for apologizing. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't his fault. At least, not technically, anyway.

"How's Cas doing?" she asked.

Dean's head dropped forward in shame, refusing to meet her gaze. "Sam got him all cleaned up last night," he explained. "If you can believe it, he's even worse than you are. Took seven stitches to seal up a knife wound on his shoulder."

"Will he be all right?"

Dean shrugged. "We won't know until he wakes up."

Kenna closed her eyes and fought the urge to smile. She didn't know as much about angels as Sam and Dean did, but one thing she did know was that they never slept.

_Unless they're unconscious, apparently…_

Dean's fingers traced over the bruises on the back of Kenna's hand, mapping the shadows from her wrist to her fingertips. He lifted his gaze, looked at her face. She was so beautiful, scratches, bruises, and black eye included. He reached up and gently ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to tug too hard on her roots.

_I'm so damn lucky…_

Kenna was everything Dean had ever wanted, but never, ever believed he deserved. Being a hunter was a lonely way of life, but being a Winchester was even worse. The Winchester men didn't have the best luck with women.

John had lost Mary. And Sam had lost Jessica.

After seeing what that kind of love and loss did to his father and brother, Dean couldn't imagine living through something like that, much less actually surviving it. He'd planned to stay single, fight until his dying breath, and then die young…and alone.

But then, Kenna showed up. And changed everything.

She was strong, tough, a good hunter, and a sharp shooter. More often than not, she could kick the ass of anyone or anything that came anywhere near her. She loved hard, lived hard, and didn't let anything get her down. Not for too long, anyway.

He shifted his gaze to just below her neck, letting it travel lower and lower, until he could feel his cheeks growing warmer again.

_Plus, she's eye candy to boot…_

Without voicing any of his thoughts, Dean leaned forward and covered Kenna's lips with his own, tasting, teasing, until neither of them knew where their own body ended, and the other's began. Dean reached up and drew slow circles against her jaw with his thumb, trying to make sure his touch was as soft and tender as he could make it.

For a long moment, nothing else outside this moment mattered. There were no demons, no angels, nothing and no one that wanted them dead. No Michael, no Lucifer, no ritual to perform. Right now, it was just Kenna. Just Dean.

It was too much to bear. He needed more of her. He always needed more.

Dean pushed himself closer, dug his fingers into Kenna's hair, and nibbled on her lips.

"Ow," Kenna moaned, the soft sound muffled against Dean's mouth.

"Sorry," he whispered, pressed one last kiss to her lips, and gently pulled back. He released his grip on her hair, and gently rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. He gazed into her eyes, and found no sign of fear there. No trace of doubt, or anything that made him think she might run away again.

Although, this time, given what had happened to her and Cas the night before, he wouldn't blame her for giving up on him, and leaving. But, as far as he could tell, Kenna wasn't going anywhere.

_She's here to stay…_

Dean Winchester hated cheesy, romantic moments. In fact, he'd rather take a bullet to the gut than be involved in one, but right now, the situation seemed to call for it.

"Kenna," he whispered. "I don't know if or when the end if coming. I mean, maybe it is, maybe it isn't…but all I know is that I want to be with you wherever it ends up."

Kenna leaned forward, ignoring the pain, and rested her forehead against Dean's. She reached up and stroked his warm cheek with the pad of her thumb, wanting to smooth away every last wrinkle of his fear and self-imposed guilt. It would take time, but they had plenty of it.

"Oh, Dean," she chuckled, softly. "You and your chick flick moments."

**-Please review. I _THRIVE _on them. Lots of love, Leigh**


	80. Chapter 80

Despite the lingering pain she was in, and the passionate protests coming from Dean, McKenna managed to force herself out of bed, and across the hall, hell-bent on going to sit with Castiel. She winced and held a hand over her sore belly, as she slowly lowered herself down to the mattress, next to him.

The angel was still unconscious, but he was clean and shirtless, and his entire torso was wrapped up in surgical tape.

"His ribs were worse than yours," Sam explained, softly, as he entered the room, behind her. "I had to bind him up to make sure they wouldn't pierce his lungs."

Kenna glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. "You did a good job, Sam," she said. "You should be proud."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have to do any of this stuff in this first place. None of us should," he argued. "But, we all know how to do stitches with dental floss, and how to cauterize a wound using nothing but a lighter and a knife blade."

He crossed the hardwood floor, his bare feet shuffling along the surface, as he slowly made his way to Kenna's side. He placed a hand on her back, as he leaned over her, and used his other hand to check Castiel's pulse. Sam pressed his index and middle finger into the angel's throat and silently counted off a strong, steady rhythm.

"Knowing how to do all that stuff is a good thing,Sam," Kenna offered, bringing him back to his earlier words. "We all would've died a long time ago if we didn't."

He lifted his fingers from Cas's neck and sat down on the bed behind Kenna. "Normal people don't know how to do that stuff," he mumbled, half hoping that she wouldn't hear him.

She frowned at him. "And just what exactly do you consider 'normal'?"

Sam's gaze dropped to the floor, his eyes clouding over with shame. "People who aren't hunters."

Kenna almost smiled.

_People who aren't hunters…_

She often forgot there was such a thing. But there was. There were people out there who got up every morning, went on a morning run, picked up their favorite coffee, climbed behind the wheel of their hybrids, and drove to their high rise office buildings, never knowing anything about what 'hunters' did.

They never knew that they could do what they did, because of what people like Sam, Dean, Kenna, and Bobby did.

Of course, most of America's citizens did the same thing with people in the army, too. Soldiers were always there, fighting for the freedom of complete strangers they would never know, and never receive a thank you card from. But yet, they kept fighting just the same.

And technically, Sam, Dean, and McKenna were in an army, too. They were soldiers, too, and they were fighting a war. Just one of a different variety. One that most people knew nothing about.

"Well, I've met plenty of people who aren't hunters, Sam," Kenna said. "And most of the time, I'm glad I'm not them."

Sam's eyebrow arched. "_Most_ of the time?"

Kenna dropped her gaze forward on a heavy sigh. She shrugged her shoulders with a wince. "Sometimes I envy those 'normal' people," she whispered.

Sam almost smiled, and couldn't help but ask, "When?"

For a long moment, Kenna didn't answer. She just continued to gaze off into the distant future, or perhaps it was the distant past. Neither of them was really sure.

"When they can walk through life without packing a gun, or having a knife strapped to their ankle," she finally said. "When they can sleep through the night without spreading salt in front of all the doors and windows of whatever room they're in. When they can take their kids to the park and let them run around and play. And let them just…be kids."

Sam reached up and touched Kenna's knee. "Kenna—"

"When they deserve to _have_ kids…" she added, softly, just before her sentence tapered off.

A single tear slid down her cheek before she even realized it was there, but when she felt a second one trying to escape, her hand shot up and immediately wiped it away.

Sam shook his head. Kenna was crazy. It was just that simple.

_Thinking she doesn't deserve to have kids…_

Maybe, the situation didn't call for it, in fact, he was sure it didn't, but no matter what he did, Sam couldn't help but smile.

"You know…Dean loves kids," he whispered. "And I'd be an awesome uncle."

Kenna looked up, and tried to glare at him, but couldn't manage it. A slow smile spread across her lips. "Sam…" she said, her tone a warning one.

But, the situation became serious when he pressed his palm into her knee, and gazed deep, into her eyes. "And you," he whispered. "Would be the world's most…_amazing_…mom."

Another wave of tears rose and crested on the bottom rim of Kenna's eyelids. She smiled at Sam, almost chuckled, and slowly reached down to cover Sam's hand with her own. She wanted to thank him for his kind words, tell him she loved him dearly, and how she thanked God for their friendship each, and every day, but somehow, just the words would never be enough. So, she simply smiled, and nodded her head.

Unable to handle the bittersweet moment any longer, Kenna turned her gaze back to Castiel. She gently reached up and ran her fingers over the bruises along his arms, making sure she didn't press too hard. His bottom lip was swollen, his left eye puffy, and coal black, his right cheek popped out and red.

Without his usual tan trench coat and blue tie, he was almost completely unrecognizable, and for a moment, Kenna almost couldn't believe that it was actually him.

"He looks awful," she whispered.

Sam scoffed and shook his head. "You should've seen him last night."

Kenna let her hand wander up and cover the large piece of gauze Sam had taped over the knife wound on his shoulder. A perfectly round spot of blood soaked through the middle of it and stained its snowy whiteness.

If his attacker's knife had cut him any higher, it would've hit an artery. Cas would've bled out.

And died.

Kenna released her hold on Sam's hand, and quickly looked back at him, without thinking the movement through, first. The twist of her torso sent a burning pain up through her belly, and straight into the center of her chest. For just a moment, it even took her breath away.

"You okay?" Sam asked, placing a concerned, but gently hand against her back.

"I'm fine," she gasped, but Sam knew she was lying.

Kenna closed her eyes for a moment, silently willing the pain to subside. When it finally lessened to a dull ache, she managed to open her mouth again.

"Sam, I don't know if a demon did this to him," she whispered.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Dean said Castiel's pretty tough," she explained. "And I've seen the way he handles demons, Sam. I mean, he just zaps himself out of the equation, and boom, problem solved."

Sam's head slowly bobbed forward, as he began to understand what Kenna was getting at. The angel could not only appear and disappear with the snap of a finger, but he could also really kick some ass if he needed to.

But if someone had caught Castiel, trapped him within a ring of fire and oil, he would never be able to get away.

_And not many demons knew about that little trick…_

"So, you're thinking that it wasn't a demon at all," Sam clarified.

"That's right," Kenna nodded.

"And if it wasn't a demon…"

Kenna smiled, forever thankful for Sam and his keen observations. "That means it was probably another angel."

**-Please review. **

**Reviews like warm hugs, and it's cold where I am right now, so they would be VERY much appreciated. -Leigh**


	81. Chapter 81

McKenna remained at Castiel's side for the remainder of the day, never once wavering in keeping up her vigil for him. She glanced down, looking at the bruises on her hands, the scratches along her palms. They were the lines of a fighter, the markings of many long, hard years gone by. Some were from the night before. Others were from the many times she'd tried to escape from the Compound.

She reached up and traced a fingertip over a long, familiar scar on the palm of her left hand. This one was from the time that she'd tried to dig a hole beneath the chain link fence using nothing but large serving spoon and her bare hands. She had worked on it for three days straight, sneaking out of the bunkroom and digging under the cover of darkness. By the time the sun was cresting over the tall treetops, Kenna was back in bed, feigning sleep, and doing a darn good job of it, too.

On the third night, as an eleven-year-old McKenna dug into the earth with tiny, freezing fingers, the bright beam from a flashlight suddenly flickered behind her. The light warmed her spine, even as her little body began to shiver with fear.

It was the first time she'd ever been caught...but it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Two pairs of hands grabbed her ankles and jerked her back, dragging her body, kicking and screaming, across the cold, hard ground, below. Her little hands shot up and curled around the cold metal of the chain link fence, scratching into the tender skin of her palm, leaving the scar behind.

She was mercilessly dragged back to the main building, a giant hand covering her mouth, muffling her screams. She remembered not being able to breathe, looking up into the clear, starlit sky, and wondering when someone would come to save her. She waited for days, months, years, and no one ever did.

_I wish I couldn't remember what happened after that, but I still do..._

It was a stroke of luck that the police had been waiting outside of them that cold, winter night, four years later, when McKenna was fifteen. And even now, today, she didn't know what had made that night different.

Perhaps she had just had enough and something within her had finally snapped. Honestly, she couldn't really remember anymore. The facts of that night were jumbled in her head, swimming around like ants drowning in a sugar bowl.

Kenna lifted her still aching head and gazed at Castiel. A slow smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

The only thing she was really sure of was the fact that he had been there. Yes, at the time his body had been different, but it was still Castiel, just the same.

When Kenna and the other girls had stayed awake at night, praying that God would send an angel to free them from their harrowing captivity, they had never once thought how their wish would literally come true.

She looked down at the bruises along his arms, the long scratches that started at his shoulders and ran all the way down to the back of his hands. Kenna knew that Castiel didn't possess any special healing abilities.

_He couldn't heal my cancer, no matter how hard he tried…_

But she wondered if any other angels did.

The ever-lingering memories of the Compound, her worry for Castiel, and her growing anxiety over the ritual that now, might never happen. It all jumbled together in a huge untidy heap, overflowing into the tiniest recesses of her mind. She couldn't get rid of it, no matter how hard she tried.

Kenna lifted her head and gazed beyond the angel's unconscious form. The setting sun was cresting over the ridge in the distance, and it was starting to get dark.

Suddenly, a familiar pair of callused hands rested on her shoulders, running their fingers through her hair. The hands drew strength from the touch, but returned it ten-fold, as well. The gentle fingers traced the scars in her skin, both new and old. They didn't shy away from them. In fact, Kenna knew how much the hands' owner loved them.

"It's gettin' late," Dean whispered, leaning down, and nuzzling into the side of her neck. "And I don't think he's going to be waking up tonight."

Kenna closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasant sensations his touch brought forth in her. "Did Sam tell you?" she asked, softly. "We think another angel did this to him."

The couple gazed down at Castiel, both of them ripped in two by the overwhelming guilt his attack had brought them. Dean had blamed himself first, but Kenna blamed herself more.

Dean's eyes moved quickly over Castiel's body, taking in every bruise, every line, in an effort to decide whether or not he agreed with their theory. His gaze darted to the corner of the room where Cas's bloody trench coat had been tossed over the back of a chair. He lifted his hands from Kenna's shoulders and crossed the room in a few short strides. He leaned across the chair, picked up the coat and slowly examined every inch of it.

It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for.

Dean almost smiled as he fingered the bottom hem of the coat. He slowly made his way back to Kenna, sat on the end of the bed, and held up a piece of the fabric so she could see. The bottom edge of Cas's coat was black, and obviously singed by fire.

Sam and McKenna had been right. Cas had been trapped in a ring of burning oil, beaten, and tortured, for God knew how long.

And probably at the hands of another angel.

Dean traced the burns in the tan material with his thumb and the corners of his lips turned down. "Makes sense," he whispered. "If this ritual works, it'll kill Michael. And the angels don't want that."

Kenna nodded slowly, and reached out to touch Dean's hand, stilling his fingers as they moved over Castiel's coat. She gently tugged on the collar and Dean loosened his grasp on it, letting Kenna take the jacket from him.

But his guilt over the angel's pain didn't leave him when he let the coat go. He watched Kenna lean over and place the neatly folded coat on the floor, her body stiff and obviously full of pain as she came back up.

Another wave of guilt crashed onto the shore of Dean's soul.

"You know, it's kinda funny," he chuckled, bitterly. "I think this is the first time in human history that the angels and demon want the exact same thing."

"And they're both willing to go to the same dirty lengths to get it," Kenna agreed, smiling, sadly.

Dean looked up and watched as Kenna's eyes drooped closed for a moment. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and the shaking of her hands as she lifted a hand and speared her fingers through her tangled, messy hair. She had no makeup to hide the bruises on her skin and wore only a baggy, unflattering robe that did absolutely nothing for her figure.

But still, Dean found her incredibly beautiful.

"Stop staring," she whispered, a sleepy, yet flirtatious smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Or I might just have to do something about it."

Dean beamed and leaned closer. "Oh, really?"

Kenna blushed, bit her lip, and looked to the floor, her flirtation gun completely out of ammo.

Dean laughed. "You suck at this, babe," he teased.

Kenna grinned, and her lips even parted with laughter. It hurt her ribs more than she could say, but somehow, she didn't even care. She needed to laugh, needed it badly.

She glanced back at Castiel for a moment, sorrowfully satisfied that he wasn't going to be waking up tonight. She jerked her chin at him. "You think he'll be okay in here by himself?"

Dean stood to his feet, pulling Kenna up with him. "Yeah, he'll be fine," he said, smiling, and carefully tugged her toward the doorway. "Come on, let's go."

Kenna grinned. Apparently, Dean's interest wasn't at all diminished by her lack of flirtation skills. His hand tenderly pulled on hers as he led her out of the room and across the hall. He closed the door behind them, and gently pulled her into his arms, smiling against her lips.

"I can be gentle," he promised, running his fingers over her ribs. She hadn't gone anywhere, hadn't run away again, but he had missed her so much. He almost couldn't believe that just one time with an inexperienced 'virgin' had brought the mighty Dean Winchester to his knees.

Kenna nodded and smiled, almost as though she was aware of the power she had over him. "I've missed you," she whispered, pulling the unspoken words right out of his mouth.

She stood up on her toes, met his lips with her own. She snaked one hand up to his head, into his hair, while the other found a home, resting on his chest. Dean's hands were everywhere, never staying in one place any longer than a few seconds. He made sure his touch was gentle so he wouldn't hurt her any more than she already was, and he was slow because he knew he'd always have to be.

And he didn't mind it one bit.

She burrowed herself into his arms, pressing her body, flush against his.

Dean smiled agains her lips. Surely, Kenna had to know what she was getting into by now. She had to know where this was leading, and if Dean was right, it was going to end very well for both of them.

But, he had to be certain.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

Her uninjured eyebrow arched up. Of course she was sure, but she was thankful that Dean was giving her a choice, anyway. She needed this, needed him. Needed to feel his touch, needed his hands and lips to erase the lingering memories of the Compound, and the worry she felt for Castiel.

"Kenna?" he questioned again, reaching around and gently running his finger up her spine.

Kenna didn't answer. Instead, she simply pressed another kiss to his lips and climbed into bed. He watched her lips curve up in a shy smile, as her hand shot out to pat the empty spot beside her. Dean grinned, removed his shirt, and turned his back on her to toss the t-shirt into the nearby clothes hamper, quickly followed by his jeans.

He never should've done that. When Dean turned back, Kenna's head was slumped forward, her chin resting on her chest.

She was out cold.

A slow smile curved along Dean's lips as he quietly slipped into bed, beside her. He hooked his finger beneath her chin, lifted her head, and pulled her close to rest against his chest. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, leaned back against the pillows, and closed his eyes.

His head was swimming with worry. About Kenna, about Sam, about Cas, and Bobby. About Michael, Lucifer, and the Apocalypse. About…everything.

But even despite all that, Dean managed to smile, press a kiss to Kenna's closed eyelids, and whisper, "Love you, babe."

**-More still coming. And a video, eventually. **

**Please review-Thank you!**


	82. Chapter 82

Hot, hard fingers pulled at her limbs, tugged on her hair, ripped into her skin, yanked on her clothing. The pants she was wearing were too big, so was the shirt, both of them passed down from the last, oldest girl who had disappeared, never to be seen again. McKenna was ashamed to say that she couldn't even remember her name now. Couldn't recall the color of her hair, or even her eyes.

But she remembered her kind touch as she ran her fingers through Kenna's hair in an effort to calm the crying, younger girl after yet another beating. She remembered the sound of her gentle voice, whispering promising words like, "It'll be okay, McKenna," and "The angels are watching out for us…"

Beyond that, Kenna couldn't remember anything else about the girl.

_But yet, I wore her hand-me-downs…_

The midnight sky glowed overhead as an unknown number of hands carried her deep, into the forest. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, or even try to do so. The drugs they had injected her with moments before were doing their job well, leaving her pliant and immobile, but fully alert to everything that was taking place around her.

The hands laid her down on the hard, cold earth, and flaming torches, along with the light emanating from them, danced in the darkness just beyond her peripheral vision. Deep voices echoed loudly, seeming to come from everywhere. They chanted, called on the ancient spirits of the earth, and the evil demons of Hell.

And they always came, quickly.

_They always came…_

McKenna couldn't understand what she was doing back here, in this dark, cursed place, or why she was so young, again. Just below the chanting of the robed Brothers, she could hear the soft, desperate cries of at least a dozen other girls.

It was easy to tell the new inductees from the advanced, older ones.

The new girls cried huge, crocodile tears that streamed down their cheeks, and they always begged for their mothers. While the older girls, the ones who knew the score, kept their eyes tightly shut, whispering tearlessly, pleading for the angels to come and save them.

But the angels never came.

_They never, ever came…_

The chill of something cold and metallic rested against Kenna's neck, tracing over the light blue veins, pumping beneath her skin. She trembled, closed her eyes, and refused to unleash any tears.

"My pretty little girl," a deep voice breathed against her neck, into her hair, near her ear. A strong hand touched her cheek, gently running its thumb against the baby, soft skin there. "My precious, pretty, little girl…"

Kenna relaxed her body, let it rest there, limp and wilted, knowing it always hurt less if just let it happen. If she closed her eyes and thought of something else, anything else, and it would usually pass, quickly. If she just ignored them, closed herself off to their sickeningly soft, almost gentle touches, she would once again survive another night.

_McKenna…_

She heard her name and wondered where it came from.

They never called us by name…

Perhaps it was a trick, one of the other Brothers trying to distract her. Or maybe it was one of the many evil spirits rising up from the torches' flames.

_McKenna…_

She woke up, adrift in a sea of disorientation. The knife against her neck was gone, the deep chanting dissipated, and the crying girls nothing but a memory.

The anguish was gone…though it never _truly_ leaves.

For a moment, her mind was drowning in the ever-growing inability to remember where she was, or where she's supposed to be. Her eyes slowly accustomed themselves to the darkness and settle on the shirtless, sleeping figure lying next to her in bed.

She was back in Bobby's house, in her room, in her bed, and the man next to her is…Dean Winchester. Her head was swimming, wondering why on earth he's there with her.

_Oh, wait...that's right…I love him…_

Kenna could feel her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, as her gaze finally settled on a dark figure, standing in the corner. He stood just outside the moonlight, close enough to be menacing, but far enough away to keep his appearance a mystery.

Kenna closed her eyes, wishing for the days when she used to jump on the back of the Hog, ride away until she ran out of road, and hide out for a few days in the country. She would always stay away for a little while, at least until she started to feel safe again.

At the moment, she wished that they were alone. She wished she could just lay down, fall into Dean's arms, and tremble beneath the weight of his heavenly touch. She didn't even care how sore her body was, knowing that Dean would be slow, and soft, using his hands, mouth, and lips to erase all the bad things inside her.

She lifted a heavy hand and rested her palm against the bare skin of his back, but Dean didn't move. In fact, it was obvious that he didn't even feel it.

The fire, the anguish, and the voices are gone but…

"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" Kenna whispered.

The figure in the corner nodded his head. "Though, I hate entering your dreams, McKenna," he whispered. "They're not always very…_pleasant_."

For a moment, Kenna felt an, 'I'm sorry' cresting on the tip of her tongue, but she quickly swallowed it, and forced it down, into the pit of her stomach. She had nothing to apologize for, especially not to this…_thing_. Her dreams were her own, and there was nothing she could do about them now.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice rising, confidently, almost on the borderline of cocky. "Come to give my Cancer back?"

She shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have even though it. He had the power to take her illness away, which meant that he also had the power to give it right back. Her eyes closed, and body froze, half expecting to feel a large hand palm her forehead, and an electric charge zip through her body, followed by the old, familiar sensations of sickness and death.

But, seconds pass, maybe minutes, and nothing happened.

Kenna opened one eye and stared at the figure in the corner. He shook his head, and looked as though he might be smiling.

"No Cancer," he promised, softly, and took a few quick steps toward the bed, staying close to the wall, keeping himself in the dark.

"I just wanted to…" he paused, lifted his hand, and let it hover over Dean's head. "Check on Dean."

Kenna grit her teeth and rose up onto her knees, staying as close to Dean as possible. "Michael…" she warned, spitting the name from her mouth like a child saying a dirty word.

The angel drops his hand and gently tousled his fingers through Dean's hair. Kenna growled, low in her throat, and her hand shot out beneath her pillow, reaching for the knife she knew would do nothing.

"Kenna," Michael whispered, his tone a gently scolding one. "I would never, ever hurt him."

He patted his hand on Dean's head, like a proud father congratulating his child for winning the big game, or making an A on the test. "In fact," the angel continued. "I love him…very much."

"Yeah, I bet you do," Kenna agreed, bitterly. "And what about your angel brothers? Do you love them, too?"

"Of course, I do," Michael said, nodding.

"Really?" Kenna whispered on a harsh chuckle. "Well, then Castiel must be your favorite, because you loved him so hard, he's lying beaten and bloody in the next room!"

The angel frowned, almost pouted, and lifted his hand from Dean's head. "You think _I_ did that to Castiel?"

Kenna nodded.

"Well…you are right."

Kenna was overcome with such deep disappointment that she actually thought she might cry. She knew that Michael wanted his own way, and would do whatever it took to get it. She also knew that he was an angel and therefore as 'dicky' as the rest of them, but for some reason, she never wanted to believe that he had done something like that to his own brother.

"You dick," she whispered, before she could even try to stop herself. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Michael cocked his head at her, like a small child who didn't understand why they were being reprimanded.

"How could you do something like that?" Kenna asked. Tears stung her eyes, though she didn't know where they came from "To your own…brother?"

The angel cleared his throat, and took a few steps back. "My…_brother_…is misguided. He…needed to remember what his original job was."

"And beating the hell out of him was the best way to handle that?" Kenna questioned, harshly.

"Unfortunately, yes," the angel answered. "Sometimes brute force is necessary."

Kenna shook her head and did her best to keep her tears from falling. She couldn't let him see her cry. No matter what. She couldn't let him see her cry. Suddenly, a strange though enters her mind.

"Did you know who I was?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Before I met all of them? Did you know me?"

The angel nodded, slowly, and once again, Kenna felt as if she'd been let down. For a moment, she wondered if she might even throw up.

"I knew exactly who you were," Michael said. "I've always known."

Kenna closed her eyes on a quiet, bitter curse. "Did you hear us?" she asked. "Did you hear all of us when we were crying out to you for help?"

Again, the angel nodded.

And suddenly it all made sense.

The angels had heard Kenna's cries, begging for rescue from the horrors of the Compound. They had heard her, seen her, and turned a blind eye. They had known from the very beginning that she was the one, and only person, years later, which would be able to perform the ritual, the only one who would be able to kill Michael and Lucifer, and stop the Apocalypse.

They knew…and so they ignored her.

But someone else had heard her, as well. Someone else knew how important she was. And someone else decided to turn their back on their family, and rescue her.

_Castiel. _

Kenna almost laughed. Because it was simply too funny for words.

"Wow…he really pissed you off, didn't he?" she asked, smiling. "Cas heard me screaming, snuck down here, took on a vessel, and saved my life…because he knew exactly what I would have to do later on."

"You're a smart girl," Michael whispered, pointing his finger at her. "I'll give you that. And you're life since then has been quite…_impressive_."

Kenna shrugged. "I fight evil…but maybe what I really should've been fighting is _you_."

The angel ignored her words, completely sidestepped the verbal landmine and smiled at her. "I very sincerely suggest that you forget what Castiel has done for you, McKenna," he began. "He was wrong in setting you free. You were meant to die there, young and alone in the Compound. It was God's will."

Kenna couldn't help but grin. "Oh, I think it was somebody's will, all right…but not God's."

"It is also God's will that you not perform this ritual," Michael continued, once again disregarding Kenna's words. "I suggest you yield to Him."

"I will always yield to _God_," she vowed, gritting her teeth. "And I will always follow _His_ will…but I will _not_…follow _yours_."

The last word had barely crested over Kenna's lip, and the angel was gone.

But she knew, sometime…he'd be back.

**-Please review. I love them...and YOU...so very much :) -Leigh**


	83. Chapter 83

"You sweet, sweet Angel Face, you," McKenna whispered, as she kept vigil at Castiel's bedside. She ran her fingers over the back of his limp, heavy hand, taking pleasure in knowing that she'd never get the chance to do this if he was awake.

It was after three in the morning and she had left Dean alone in her room, fast asleep, nearly an hour before. He hadn't moved, not once, even when Kenna bolted straight up in bed, a raw scream tearing from her throat.

For a moment, she had wanted to wake him up, tell him who had come to her, and what he had said. She had wanted to tell Dean she was scared out of her mind and beg him to hold her until she stopped shaking.

But Dean's face was so calm, his body so relaxed, that she couldn't bear to wake him.

He had suffered for years without sleep, often only managing to pass out after endless hours spent drinking.

"I'd come stumbling back from whatever crappy bar I'd been wallowing in to whatever crappy hotel we'd be staying at, drunk as a skunk," Dean had once told her. "Half the time, Sam would have to pick me up off the floor and toss my sorry ass in bed."

Dean's confession had nearly brought Kenna to tears. She had known how he'd chosen alcohol as his drug of choice, but it didn't real mean much to her at first. Every hunter had a vice.

Even Kenna.

_Mine was always loneliness..._

After Dean had explained himself to her, Kenna didn't judge him, not once. She didn't chastise him in any way, either. She simply placed her arms securely around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. He had leaned into her embrace, and just let her hold him.

For once, their roles had been reversed, and Dean had allowed himself to lean on McKenna.

_And it was nice to be needed…_

Kenna reluctantly pushed her ever-present thoughts of Dean to the back of her head, leaned forward, and did her best to ignore the stinging pull against her sore ribs. She glanced down at Castiel, gently taking his hand in hers again. The corners of her lips slowly turned up.

"You know, it's funny, Cas," she whispered. "Promise you won't tell him, but Dean's a lot more like you than he'd ever care to admit."

The angel offered no opinion, and no comfort to the silent room.

"He's kind and gracious…patient." Kenna paused for a moment, smiling softly at the unconscious angel. "And he'd do anything for anybody. No matter what the cost is. No matter what he might lose in the process...just like you."

Kenna reached up and brushed the dark hair above Castiel's brow with her fingertips.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked, but didn't expect to hear an answer. "I do. Of course, you were in a different vessel, then. You were taller, blonder. But, you're eyes were the same."

She squeezed his hand, wishing her touch had the power to wake him up. She also wished he would open his eyes, so she could stare into the blueness, there. Blue like the turbulent waves of the ocean, piercing into another's gaze, and crashing onto the shores of the soul.

Kenna could rarely look away whenever Castiel looked at her, and it was something she hadn't noticed with the other angels. It was something that was just simply…him.

Kenna's mind traveled back, seven years into the past, and she was forced to go with it, whether she really wanted to or not. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to go, knowing that if anything happened, Castiel would be there to save her again.

"It was raining…but you weren't wet," she whispered, remembering that fact for the first time. "I guess at the time I didn't think that that was weird."

She stopped, and chuckled softly to herself. "Although, I probably had more important things to worry about, right?"

Again, the only thing to answer her was a room filled with silence.

"Anyway, you saved us, Cas. You saved all of us. And you left heaven," she whispered. "To save me. You completely disregarded the orders from your superiors, left the only home you ever knew, and came down here to save me…because you knew that I would later have to save…"

Kenna paused, suddenly realizing the complete extent of what the ritual would do, and whom it would save.

"Holy…crap," she breathed. "You saved me, so I could save the whole freakin' world."

She lifted the angel's hand, pressing the back of it to her sore cheek. "Wow. Well, you weren't kidding when you said that I had a bigger role in all this, were you?"

Castiel said nothing.

"Well, thanks a lot for that, Cas," she said, chuckling. "That's not too much of a heavy weight on my shoulders, now is it?"

Once again, he didn't answer.

Kenna smiled against the back of his hand. "I swear, Cas, if you weren't already unconscious, I'd slug you."

She knew she should have been feeling afraid. She knew she should have been terrified, shaking and trembling with fear. Kenna had just been given one hell of a job. One bigger than anything she had ever wanted anything to do with. Yet, somehow she felt strangely calm, almost at peace.

Because for the first time in her whole life, Kenna wasn't alone. She had a whole army of people, _family_, ready and waiting in her corner.

Bobby, Sam, Dean, and Castiel. If something went wrong, she had backup. She had friends, family, loved ones there, with her to pick her up, dust her off, and send her on her way again.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kenna couldn't help but grin. Her eyes narrowed, and she silently called out to whoever might be listening.

_Bring on the ritual. Bring on Michael, Lucifer, and every single angel and demon they had. Hell, bring on the whole freakin' Apocalypse…_

Kenna would be just fine.

Suddenly, Castiel's fingers tightened and flexed around hers.

Kenna lifted her gaze and watched his long eyelashes flutter against his bruised cheeks. For the first time in two days, Kenna could see the bright blue of Castiel's eyes peeking out from between his eyelids. He opened them, stared at her, and the dazzling blue oceans within them crashed onto the shores of her soul, once again.

"McKenna?" he groaned, softly.

She squeezed his hand and grinned. "Hey, Angel Face."

**-Please review...Thank you! -Leigh**


	84. Chapter 84

Castiel stared at the steaming cup of hot tea as McKenna gently placed it within his bruised hands. His eyes were large with question, and he handled the mug as though he didn't know what to do with it. Kenna smiled at Cas, kissed Dean's cheek, squeezed Sam's arm, and turned to leave the room.

Sam reached up, kindly took the foreign object from Castiel's hands, and placed it on the nightstand.

"What is that?" the angel asked.

"Hot tea," Sam answered.

"You drink it," Dean added, and couldn't help but smile.

"But, I rarely consume liquids," Castiel argued.

Dean chuckled and a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Liar," he said. "I saw you throwing back shots with Ellen, Cas. Believe me, you consume liquids just fine."

Castiel frowned, his cheeks hinting at a soft tint of pink as he glanced down at the quilt covering his body.

"Kenna just wants to help you feel better, Castiel," Sam offered. "She likes to take care of other people."

Dean turned slightly and tilted his head toward the door. He looked back and tossed his words over his shoulder, across the hallway. "Even though the only person she _should _be taking care of right now is _herself_!"

There was a long, silent pause, then…

"Shut up, Dean!" Kenna called back, and the three men could hear her throwing herself onto the bed in her room. Sam and Dean chuckled, and even Castiel's lips turned up in a small smile.

Dean looked up at Castiel. He jerked his chin at his bare, gauze covered chest. "So, what happened to you?" he asked.

"What happened to McKenna?" the angel countered.

Sam leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared at his hands for a long moment He took in every line, every callus, knowing the story behind each and every one of them. At last, he looked up at Dean.

His older brother averted his gaze, unable to look Sam in the eye.

Clearly, Dean still blamed himself for everything.

"We had a pretty bad run in with some hellhounds the other day," Sam explained. "And…Meg came to visit us."

"She wanted McKenna," Cas said. It wasn't a question. He knew.

"Yeah, she did," Sam affirmed. "But she didn't get her. We sent Meg home, but the next day…" Sam paused, looked at Dean, and watched as he rose up from the foot of the bed, crossed the room, and gazed out the window.

"We had another visitor the next day," Sam continued, softly. He let out a heavy sigh. It was even hard for him to say it. He looked up at Castiel and shrugged. "Well, you saw her. He beat the hell out of her."

Dean scoffed, bitterly and ran a heavy hand over his face. "He almost did more than that."

"Where is the demon now?" Castiel asked.

"Dead," Dean answered, curtly.

Castiel dropped his aching head forward, letting his chin rest against his chest. He lifted his hands and spread his fingers over the gauze wrapped around his torso. He explored the area with his hands, poking and prodding over the cotton. He finally poked one area a bit too hard and bit back a groan.

"It wasn't a demon that did this to me," he said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we kinda figured that. It was an angel, wasn't it?"

Castiel nodded, his eyes large with surprise. "Yes, it was. But, how did you know that?"

Dean finally wandered away from the window, picked up Cas's coat from its place at the foot of the bed, and gently laid it out over the angel's lap. Castiel reached out and tenderly fingered his beloved khaki trench coat. His fingers traced over the material until they reached the singed edges at the bottom hem.

"I became trapped," Castiel began, slowly. "While I was in Jerusalem getting the oil we would need."

"Who trapped you?" Sam asked.

Cas's gaze shifted up from the burnt fabric, over to Dean for a moment, then settled back on Sam again. "Umm…" he stammered. "Another angel." His gaze went back to the material, and thumbed with it, nervously.

"You didn't know him?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head. "There are thousands of angels in heaven, Dean. We usually only acquaint ourselves with those who are in the same garrison."

Sam and Dean shared a hard look. Cas was lying and they both knew it.

Castiel reached up, touched the bruises on his face, and ran his hands over his bound ribs again. "Will I be all right?"

Sam nodded. "You're gonna be down for a couple more days, but yeah, you should be fine."

"Thank you, Sam" Cas murmured, and pulled the blankets up to cover his bare chest. "I should probably get some more rest. Please thank McKenna for the tea."

Dean chuckled to himself, knowing angels didn't rest, but apparently, Cas was done talking. The brothers rose to their feet, turned their back on the angel, and left the room.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"I wanna pull a Kenna."

McKenna lifted her gaze from the Guns & Ammo magazine in her hands and arched her brow at Dean. "Excuse me?"

Dean was lying across the foot of Kenna's bed. He rolled from his back, onto his side, supporting his head in his right hand. He looked up at her and smiled. "I wanna pull a Kenna," he said again.

"Okay, Dean, is that some weird, kinky sex thing that I don't know about yet?" she asked.

Dean smiled. "No. I mean I wanna do what you would do right about now."

Kenna frowned and set the magazine off to the side. "And what's that?"

Dean looked away for a moment, glanced down at the quilt on Kenna's bed, tracing his fingertip over the zigzag design. "I wanna run away."

A warm, yet somber smile stretched along Kenna's lips. She sat up, bit her lip in pain, and stretched out, headfirst onto her stomach, until she was face to face with Dean. She reached up, and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

"But I don't run away anymore, Dean," she reminded him, gently.

He smiled. "I know, but _I'd_ kinda like to right now."

Kenna took a deep breath and frowned. "Well...call me when you get there, okay?"

Dean chuckled, and placed a gentle arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. By the look in her eyes, she was only half kidding.

"You know I'd take you with me," he whispered.

Kenna's frown eased away. "Where would we go?"

Dean shrugged. "Anywhere that doesn't have demons," he smiled. "Or angels, for that matter."

"But they're everywhere, Dean," Kenna argued, gently. "They'll follow us. No matter where we go, they'll follow us."

Dean closed his eyes, leaned forward, and rested his head on Kenna's shoulder, careful not to lean against any of her bruises. Deep down, he knew she was right.

"Meg said it herself," Kenna continued. "You, me, Sam, and Cas are on Hell's Most Wanted List. And now, we're apparently on Heaven's too."

Dean nodded and tugged at the collar of Kenna's t-shirt until he revealed a delectable patch of skin. He leaned forward and pressed his lips there.

"Mmmm," Kenna moaned, softly and smiled. "It doesn't matter how far we run, Dean," she whispered, sadly. "It'll never be far enough."

"I know," he mumbled against her skin.

"And it doesn't matter where we hide," she added. "It'll never be good enough."

"I know that, too," Dean agreed. He placed one last kiss on Kenna's shoulder, fixed her collar, and rolled back onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, for a moment, nearly burning a hole into it with his hard, heavy gaze.

"Just for argument's sake," Kenna questioned, gently. "Where were you planning on running to?"

Dean smiled, but didn't look away from the ceiling. "I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe a nice, little Bed and Breakfast somewhere. Maybe on the coast of Maine or Connecticut."

He finally turned his head and looked up at Kenna. "Somewhere like that."

Kenna beamed, and leaned down to kiss him. "You'd do that for me?" she asked, her words muffled against his lips.

"I'd do whatever you wanted," Dean whispered, and reached up to cup the back the back of her head, pulling her closer. He slowly let his free hand wander up to the small of her back, resting his palm at the base of her spine. His fingers teased beneath the hem of her t-shirt until he felt her bare skin.

"Is there anything else you want right now?" he flirted, tugged his lips from hers, and latched them onto her neck instead.

"Yes," she moaned and arched up, into his kisses.

"What's that?"

"I want to tell you something."

Dean groaned, and slowly slid his lips lower, across her collarbone. "You can tell me whatever you want, babe," he groaned.

"I know who trapped Cas."

Dean pulled back and looked at Kenna. Once again, the moment was affectively ruined. "Who?"

Kenna glanced down at the quilt, refusing to meet Dean's gaze.

"Michael," she whispered. "And he's not going to leave us alone until he gets exactly what he wants."

**-Something WICKED...this way comes...**


	85. Chapter 85

Bobby slowly wheeled himself out onto the front porch and found McKenna sitting on the porch swing. Her fingers flipped through the many pages of Castiel's ancient papers, along with the few that Sam had printed off the Internet. Her eyes danced across the page. Her lips moving quickly, silently reciting the evil Latin words she hated so much. Every few minutes she would lift her head, close her eyes, and allow the sun to warm her face.

Earlier, Bobby had sat back and kept his mouth shut when Dean had tried to persuade Kenna to stay in bed for another day, but the older hunter knew better than anybody that when Kenna had her mind made up it tended to stick. And this situation was no exception. Kenna smiled her signature grin, lit up the room with it, and walked outside, papers in hand.

And that's where she'd been for the last hour.

Bobby watched her struggle with a new line of Latin for a moment, heard her swear softly under her breath. She slammed her bruised fist against the swing's armrest and attempted to ignore the pain that shot up her arm.

She swore again.

"That's an awful lotta weight on your shoulders for such a little girl," Bobby murmured as he wheeled himself closer.

Kenna shot a sidelong glance at him and the left corner of her lip curved up.

She hadn't been a 'little girl' when they'd first met, unless you counted her size at the time, but that had never mattered to Bobby. And now, seven years and a full-grown woman later, that was how he still looked at her.

And deep down, Kenna wouldn't have it any other way.

"I hate Latin," she mumbled.

"I know you do," Bobby agreed. "Want some help?"

Kenna nodded and quickly handed Bobby a handful of papers. She lifted a hand and pointed to the line she was struggling with. He read the line aloud, sounding it out, phonetically, and had Kenna repeat it back to him the same way. It was like teaching a small child to read, and that was just fine with him.

_I missed out on that part of her life…_

"The exorcisms I did in the past were a lot easier than this one," Kenna muttered, as her tongue tripped over a word.

"You memorized those," Bobby argued. "And you usually only stuck to one."

"It got the job done, didn't it?"

Bobby chuckled. "Sure did."

He wished that he could take this for her. He wished she wasn't the one that had to do it. Kenna had been through enough, more than anybody, no matter what they did, ever deserved. And now, she was forced to perform a ritual that had the power to not only save the lives of Sam and Dean, but possibly the lives of everyone else on the entire planet.

It was so much weight to carry, so much responsibility, but Bobby refused to allow Kenna to bear it alone.

He looked up, watched her say the words, repeating them over and over again until she got them just right. And when she did, her face lit up like it was Christmas. She was healthy and happy. Happier than he'd seen her in…well, ever.

Bobby blinked and a single tear slid down his cheek. He reached up and quickly wiped it away before Kenna had the chance to see it, but she still felt his tender gaze prickling against her skin.

Kenna lifted her head and nodded at him. "What?"

Bobby looked at her, smiled and shook his head. "Nothin'."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna stood in Sam's doorway for a long moment, papers still in hand, watching Castiel as he lay in bed, eyes closed. After receiving permission from Sam, Cas was allowed to wear a borrowed t-shirt from Dean. The elder Winchester brother had had a good laugh when Cas had asked who Ferris Bueller was and why he needed a day off.

Kenna smiled at the memory and took a few quiet steps toward the angel, careful not to disturb him too much. But when she finally reached the chair at his bedside, he jumped and opened his eyes. The blue within them drilled a hole into her very spirit and she couldn't help but smile.

"Sorry," Kenna whispered, half teasing him. "Were you asleep?"

The angel frowned, and almost managed a smile, himself. "I'm not sure," he answered. "I've never really slept before."

Kenna frowned. "Really?"

Castiel cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "Sam told me that I was unconscious for the last two days. Not asleep."

"I think he's right," Kenna agreed. "Sleep's much different."

"What is it like?"

Castiel's question made Kenna pause. She had never really thought about it before. How exactly did one describe sleep, anyway? Technically, it was allowing your body to become dormant and relaxed to the point of a nearly unconscious state.

"Well," Kenna stammered nervously, reached up and speared her fingers into her thick hair. "It's quiet and lonely. And no matter what, there's never enough to go around."

"Is it enjoyable?" Cas questioned.

Kenna looked at him and couldn't help but smile at his innocence. "Some people do, I guess."

"But you don't?"

"Not really," Kenna whispered. "With sleep come dreams and I rarely have pleasant ones."

"I've never dreamed before, either," Castiel said. "Though from what I've seen of Dean's dreams, I don't think I would like it very much."

Kenna shrugged. "Sometimes dreams can be good things, though," she offered. "I've had some good ones, too."

Her gaze shifted to the floor and she remained silent for a long moment. Thankfully, Castiel took note of her discomfort and effectively ended his barrage of questions. He glanced down at the stack of papers in Kenna's hands.

"I heard you and Bobby practicing the ritual," he said. "Your Latin is getting better."

Kenna smiled. She had received the same compliment from Bobby, Sam, and Dean many times, but somehow hearing it from the lips of an angel made her actually believe it.

"Thank you," she said, and meant it. "And I think we have everything we need for the ritual, except for the holy oil."

"I will be traveling to Jerusalem as soon as I am back on my feet again," Castiel promised.

"Well, you can take your time," Kenna said. "I'm not doing this ritual until my Latin's _perfect_."

"I have faith that you will be able to do it correctly," Castiel said and reached up to the side of her face, letting his finger touch her skin for a moment, gently testing the bruise there. "And you have some more recuperating to do first, as well," he added, gently.

Kenna smiled. "Thanks, Cas." She stood to he feet, wincing at the lingering soreness in her ribs. She slowly made her way toward the door, wondering if the angel would allow himself to fall asleep.

"McKenna," Castiel called, suddenly.

She turned back, arching her brow at him. The corners of his lips turned up slightly, while the apples of his cheeks turned a soft pink. His eyes danced over the blankets, tracing the stitches, and patterns, needing to look at anything but her.

"I am very thankful," he whispered, finally. "For our friendship."

Kenna beamed.

"Me too, Cas," she said. "Me too."

**-More still coming. BIG things...**


	86. Chapter 86

"You really sure you're up to doing this, Angel Face?"

McKenna helped Castiel slide his still aching arms into his tan trench coat and gently pushed it up, over his shoulders. He winced at the painful tug against the stitched up knife wound on his collarbone and nodded.

"The holy oil is the last item we need in order to perform the ritual correctly," Castiel stated. "And despite how either of us feel, we need to do it as soon as possible."

The angel turned his head and looked deep into Kenna's eyes. "Tomorrow, McKenna."

Her eyes went wide and she forced out a heavy, nervous breath. She lifted her hands and skimmed her palms over Cas's shoulders, smoothing out the last of the material's lingering wrinkles.

"Cas, I told you my Latin is—"

"Fine," he finished for her. "Better than you think it is."

Kenna nodded her silent thanks, but closed her eyes on an anxious shudder.

"But there _are_ still risks," the angel continued, softly. "No matter how perfect your Latin is, McKenna."

She nodded and bit her lip. Cas was right. There were so many factors fitting into this equation. So many things that could go wrong. She could pronounce a word wrong. Sam could slip up and say no too late. Or, Dean could do the same.

Or Michael and Lucifer could step into their bodies and not let go.

And worse yet, the two angels could decide the Winchester Brothers were ultimately more trouble than they were worth and simply decide to do away with them once and for all.

Kenna took a deep breath.

_Then they'd just freakin' blow them up…_

"So, you're saying that no matter how prepared we are…" Kenna said slowly.

"Death is _more_ than imminent," Castiel finished. "For all of us."

Kenna closed her eyes and dropped her head forward, wanting nothing more than to scream until her lungs burst. Or better yet, shoot something.

_Or burn it, cut it, bash it…maybe filet it. Whatever…_

"So, you're going to Jerusalem?" Kenna finally asked, forcing herself to think of something else.

"Yes," Castiel said, nodding. He turned and looked at her with a slight sparkle in his ocean blue eyes. "And you should go live this night as though it were your last, McKenna."

If it were anyone else but Castiel, anyone else but an angel of the Lord, he probably would've winked at her, but Kenna wasn't sure he even knew how to do that. She glanced toward the window, taking note of the setting sun and following darkness. A part of her couldn't help but wonder if Cas was right.

_Maybe this really is my last night on earth…_

Kenna turned back, needing to make sure that Castiel was really feeling up to all this.

But of course, the angel was gone.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna ignored Bobby's questions regarding where she was going as she made her way down the stairs, through the front door, and out into the yard. She even ignored Sam's cries as he called after her from the porch. She kept on going until she reached the end of the main driveway, and fearlessly headed into the dark woods, following the Impala's earlier tire tracks through the thick, tall grass.

Eventually, the trees became too thick to allow any moonlight to pass through, but Kenna didn't let it stop her. Instead, she pulled her flashlight from her back pocket, pointed it forward to illuminate the way and simply continued on.

She was a woman on a mission, moving through the darkness with great intent. The grass seemed to part for her, almost as if it knew just how important her task was.

Not too far ahead, she could hear the thunderous boom of shots being fired from a gun, followed by the ping and shatter of glass, mixed with the loud melody of Bad Company's "Rock 'N Roll Fantasy" blasting from the Impala's speakers.

Kenna's lips turned up at the corners when she finally reached the clearing and was close enough to hear Dean singing along.

"Reachin' for the sky, churnin' up the ground…It's all part of my rock and roll fantasy…It's all part of my rock and—"

He didn't even have the chance to finish the line when Kenna suddenly stepped in front of him, pushed his gun wielding hand to the side, and pressed her lips to his. Dean's brow arched up in surprise, but his eyes closed and his whole body seized on a sharp inhale. He felt Kenna's right hand slide up the nape of his neck, her fingers spearing through his short hair and cupping the back of his head.

He lost his balance, instinctively anchored his hand against the base of her spine, and stumbled back, pulling Kenna with him. Dean was thankful the Impala wasn't too far behind, and was even more grateful that the hood caught them just before they fell back.

The gun slipped through his fingers to the dew covered grass below, completely forgotten as he reached up and cupped Kenna's jaw in his hand. Dean pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and took the opportunity to finally catch his breath. His gaze shot down for a moment, noting that she was breathing just as hard as he was, that her chest was heaving, lungs gasping for oxygen, just like his.

"Babe, I'm not complainin'," he wheezed. "_Believe me_…but what the _hell_ are you doin'?"

Kenna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself, catch her breath, and force more air into her lungs. She opened her eyes, shifted her gaze toward the ground for a moment before finally looking up at Dean.

"Cas has gone to Jerusalem," she said, simply.

Dean almost chuckled. He immediately understood. "So…" he whispered, reaching up and running his fingers through her hair. "This might be our last night on earth?"

He didn't seem disappointed, angry, or even the least bit offended. He seemed simply…understanding.

Kenna cupped the sides of his face in her hands for a moment and then slid her palms down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his waist. She looked into his eyes for a moment, but quickly rooted her gaze to a safe spot on his chest. "It's more than that, though," she whispered.

Dean chuckled warmly and pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to her forehead. "I know."

The apples of Kenna's cheeks warmed with a slight pink tint as her gaze slowly shot past Dean's shoulder. She nodded through the windshield, to the backseat of the Impala, the right corner of her lips tugging up in an almost flirtatious grin. Dean glanced back over his shoulder as well, with a knowing, almost wicked expression of his own. He reached down and gently hooked his thumbs through her empty belt loops, tugging her around the side of the car with him.

Kenna was already unsnapping the pearl buttons of her flannel shirt, taking pleasure in Dean's continually appreciative gaze. He released his hold on her just long enough to open the back door and lead them both inside. Kenna went in first and quickly tossed her shirt to the floor, laid back against the leather, and waited for Dean to join her.

For just a moment, a flash of red hair and the bitter memory of another woman crossed his mind, but he quickly escorted it to the door at back of his brain and locked it up tight. What was in his past would stay in his past.

_What's dead should stay dead…_

Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor where it landed next to Kenna's. He climbed over her, kissing her lips with tenderness he'd never shown to anyone else. He never knew it was possible to love someone this much, to need someone as much as he needed Kenna.

More than his beloved car, more than the adrenaline rush from the next hunt, more than his next breath, or the next day, which might not be coming anyway. Dean didn't even know if he was going to survive tomorrow, but that didn't matter.

He had Kenna, and right now that was more than enough.

Suddenly, another song began to play. It was Sick Puppies "All the Same," and it was actually one of Sam's songs, but it was one of only a few that Dean didn't mind listening to. Plus, it seemed fitting, given the current situation.

When the remainder of their clothes was removed, Kenna became nervous and almost downright edgy. But Dean completely understood. It was only their second time together, but there was also more to it than just that.

Kenna was still struggling with her past and Dean had to be sensitive of that, but he didn't mind. He didn't mind one bit that he had to take his time touching her, kissing her, tasting every inch of her skin. He didn't mind that he had to make each movement as though they were moving in slow motion.

No, he didn't mind that at all.

Kenna's hands trembled as she skimmed her palms up, over Dean's bare back. She shifted, needed to be closer to him and her bare skin clung to the leather below for a long moment before finally allowing her to tug free. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but giggle.

"One of these days we're actually gonna do this in a nice, soft bed," Dean chuckled, his breath teasing the sensitive skin at her collarbone. "I promise."

Kenna smiled, cupped the back of his head in her hands, and pulled his lips back up to hers. "I'll hold you to it."

Their lovemaking was slow and easy, every movement deliberate and calculated to make it last as long as possible. If Castiel was right and this really was their last night on earth, Dean and Kenna wanted it to go on forever.

It didn't take long for everything to heighten to a level of desperation, one that their first time together didn't have.

Kenna forced her eyes to remain open the entire time, needing to take in every aspect of the moment. She didn't want to miss a thing. Her hands slid over Dean's strong shoulders, down his back, and held him tight. She didn't even mind the soft, lingering ache in her still sore ribs. She felt his fingers slide along the scars littering the skin on her back for a moment. Then they went around to her hips where she felt the pad of his thumb lovingly pass over the brand there.

Despite Dean's constant, quiet pleas of, "Stay with me, Kenna. Stay here with me," she couldn't.

She wished she didn't have the brand, or the scars, or the memories that would always be in her brain. She wished she'd come to him whole and complete, with nothing to offer but herself. She wished she'd _really_ been pure…

"It doesn't matter to me," Dean rasped, suddenly. "You know that."

Kenna looked up at him, wondering how on earth he'd known exactly what she was thinking. But this was Dean. He knew her better than anyone else in the world, and there was no room for questions.

She nodded, tried to hold on, tried to make it all last longer, but his heartfelt words were just too much to bear. Dean covered Kenna's mouth with his own and quickly followed after her.

Seconds later, the two lay in the backseat of the steamy Impala, their bodies still trembling in the powerful aftermath. Dean slowly reached to the floor and returned with his jacket. He placed it over their cooling bodies and couldn't help but smile to himself.

Anything else that had _ever_ happened in this car was completely forgotten.

Dean pulled Kenna closer and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. Her pulse still beat wildly against his lips.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

Kenna nodded, but didn't utter a word. She looked up at him and Dean saw a bittersweet fear in her eyes. It was an emotion that so clearly matched his own. He lifted his hand, and traced it up the center of her naked chest, coming to a stop over her necklace. He gripped the butterfly charm between his thumb and forefinger, took a good look at it, and uttered a silent thank you to Whoever helped him find it.

Dean pressed a kiss to Kenna's forehead, and comfortably settled in on the seat beside her.

"I love you," he whispered.

Kenna nodded and a hot tear slid down her cheek. "I love you, too."

They both knew that tomorrow could literally go to hell, or even worse it could never come at all. But none of that mattered.

Because right now, they had this.

**PLEASE review...Thank you. -Leigh**


	87. Chapter 87

A single finger skimmed over her bare shoulder, moving slowly, back and forth over her still-sensitized skin. McKenna moaned and her lips turned up in a tiny smile as she happily leaned into the gentle caress.

"Mmm…_Dean_," she moaned again, opened her eyes, and turned to follow the finger's path with her eyes.

But it wasn't Dean's hand.

Kenna jerked back so hard, she nearly hit her head on the roof of the Impala. The hand was dry, almost flaky, with even more calluses than Dean's. She should have known the difference, but was so pleased by the touch that she hadn't even noticed.

The hand also had an arm, elbow, bicep, shoulder, and a whole body connected to it, as well. In fact, it was a whole person, a man, sitting in the front seat, behind the wheel. His right arm stretched across the back of the seat, hand dangling over the side, near Kenna's side.

He was thin and tall, with dark, sandy-colored hair and dark blue eyes. Yet, unlike Castiel's, Kenna instantly feared the deep blue within these. The man smiled at her, and even stretched his legs out across the length of the seat like he owned the place. His heavy five o'clock shadow covered only a few of the many open sores covering his face.

Kenna's hand went to her chest and pulled up Dean's jacket to cover herself.

"Oh, calm down, dear," the man chuckled. "Believe me, you have nothing that I haven't seen before."

"Who are you?" Kenna whispered. Her fearful gaze shot down to Dean. He was fast asleep, blissfully unaware to the strange man sitting his car, his head resting on Kenna's soft belly.

She was dreaming again. And the man sitting before her was…

"Lucifer," she breathed.

He smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and nodded. "You're a smart girl, Kenna," he grinned, pointing a playful finger at her. "And I like you."

He was so similar to his brother, Michael. His words, his mannerisms, yet somehow, Kenna knew she hated this brother more.

"You don't know me," she argued.

"Not true," Lucifer offered, gently. "I do know you. Always have."

"Yeah, I know you, too," Kenna agreed. "I first met you when I was _five_."

Lucifer frowned and dropped his gaze forward. He shook his head and let out a heavy, sorrowful sigh. "What you've been through…it broke my heart, love," he said, softly. "It truly did."

"It broke _your_ heart?" Kenna scoffed. "It all happened because of _you_."

The fallen angel shook his head again. "No, Kenna. What those demons did to you…" he paused, closed his eyes, and stayed silent for a long time. "What they did disgusted even me. The ones who hurt you weren't acting on my orders."

"Then whose orders were they?" Kenna asked.

Lucifer shrugged. "I have hundreds, thousands of demons working with me, Kenna. I'm sure you can understand how hard it would be to keep track of all of them at the same time. Sometimes they get bored and go off on their own. Do their own thing."

Kenna's fingers balled up into fists at her side as she fought the urge to slam one of them right into his face. She hated him more than anything. Even more than the very demons that had raped and tortured her and hundreds of other children. She wanted him dead, gone, cut to ribbons and tossed out to burn in his own lake of fire.

"I _hate_ you," she said, gritting her teeth, spitting the words from her lips like poisonous venom.

"I know you do," Lucifer said, his voice seeming to offer an almost genuine sympathetic offering to her. "And I'm so sorry."

He reached back and tried to touch her again. Kenna jerked her arm away and nearly fell from the seat in the process. His touch made her skin crawl and she could even taste the bile rising up in the back of her throat.

"But look at you now," he said, gesturing to the backseat and the man lying next to her. "I think you turned out pretty well given your past circumstances, don't you?"

Kenna's jaw tightened and she bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. She wanted to spit on him, cut him with the knife she knew was in the hip pocket of Dean's jeans. She would only have to lean down to the floor, grab the pants, brandish the blade, and slice it through his throat.

But it wouldn't do any good.

Nothing could kill the devil. Dean had said so.

_Not even the Colt…_

"My circumstances are none of your concern," Kenna finally growled.

"Oh, but they are, dear," Lucifer argued. "Despite the bad rap I've always gotten…I actually _do_ have the capacity to care for people."

Kenna glared at him, thinking of the nearby knife again.

"And you are one of the people I care for," he added, nodding his head at her.

"I don't need you caring for me," Kenna snarled.

She glanced down at Dean and lovingly ran her fingers through his hair. Her head lifted and she glared into the face of the devil. "I have enough people that care for me, now. I don't need even _one_ more."

Lucifer shrugged and a slow frown spread across his face.

"So what are you doing here?" Kenna finally asked. "What do you want from me?"

The fallen angel shook his head. "I want nothing from you."

"Well, if you're here to try and talk me out of performing the ritual tomorrow, you're out of luck. I'm going to do the ritual…and I'm going to kill you."

Lucifer smirked and pointed a finger at her with a chuckle. "You know, I believe that if anybody on this planet _can_, in fact, actually kill me…it would be you, Kenna."

She almost smiled, unable to contain the power she suddenly felt. It welled up from deep within her. Such a great pride that it almost took her breath away.

And she knew it was straight from Satan, himself.

So, she had no power over him after all, and by giving her the overwhelming sensation of pride, the devil had just proved it to her.

"I'll ask you one more time," Kenna growled. "What do you want?"

Lucifer humbly bowed his head and clasped his hands in his lap before him. He chewed on his bottom lip and reached up to nervously rub the back of his neck. Finally, he looked up and focused his gaze on Kenna.

"My heart breaks for you, Kenna," he began. "And the weight on your shoulders. Everything that has been done for you…and all that you still have to do. It's more than anyone should ever have to bear."

Kenna steeled her emotions to the devil's poignant speech. They were words that she had been told about before. Words that this fallen angel had once spoken to someone else.

_Sam…_

"I know that you still hold so much pain within you," Lucifer continued, slowly. "I know that even Dean can't take it all away…" he paused and respectfully gazed down at the older Winchester brother. "Even though I also know how badly he wants to."

He reached his hand around, resting his palm against an innocent enough spot on Kenna's shoulder. His eyes searched hers for a long moment, and then slid down over her and Dean's partially covered bodies. Kenna swallowed nervously and pulled the jacket tighter around her.

"Maybe this," he said, indicating the obvious signs of carnality that had taken place in the backseat. "With Dean erases the memories for just a little while, at least, but…they always come screeching back…don't they?"

The fallen angel squeezed Kenna's shoulder and a few quick flashes of blood, pain, and perversity exploded into her brain. They lasted only a few seconds, but it was just enough to make her cringe.

Enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She jerked away from his touch and looked at him. Her chin, and voice as well, was trembling.

"Please," she begged again. "What do you want?"

"I just want Sam," he sighed.

"No!" Kenna shouted. Dean frowned and shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Kenna," Lucifer offered. "And I mean anything. You can have Dean. You two can get married and have all the children I know you so _desperately_ want. Have a happy, healthy, beautiful life. You and Dean can be together…forever."

"In exchange for Sam?" Kenna questioned.

Lucifer nodded.

"But there's more to it than that, right?" she scoffed, tearfully. "You'll also want all the blood, guts, and carnage that comes with the ride, right? You want to destroy the whole _freakin'_ universe until there's nothing left but you and whatever demons you decide to let live."

The fallen angel almost smiled, unable to contain his joy at the sound of her words. He closed his eyes and shrugged, helplessly.

"I'll let you and Dean live," he offered. "I'll set you two up on a big piece of land, far away from the all the action. I'll even throw in a free pool and a swing set for the kids."

Kenna let out a bitter chuckle, shook her head, and reached up to wipe a falling tear away. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "No."

Lucifer's brow arched up. "No?"

"No," Kenna said, and she was smiling this time. "You see, I just realized why you're actually here. And why you're offering me all this."

The devil frowned and shrugged his shoulders, ready and willing to listen to her theory.

"You're here because you're _scared_," Kenna began slowly. "You know about the ritual and it scares the hell out of you. Because you know…" she paused and couldn't help but grin. "You know that it really…_truly_…just might work."

Lucifer tried to join in on her smile, but there was underlying fear in his eyes. "I'll throw in a puppy."

Kenna shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. "No deal."

She reached forward, stretched her arm over the front seat, and gripped her hand around his neck. Her fingers squeezed around his throat and she pulled his face close to hers.

"You stay away from me, stay away from Dean, and more than _anything_, you stay away from Sammy," she hissed. "Now, I suggest you go home and do whatever _sick crap_ it is you do to get your final kicks, _Luci_…" she leaned in, touching her nose to his. "Because tomorrow, I'm going to kill you."

Kenna released her grip on his throat and shoved him away.

He blinked, once, twice, and again, his eyes full of surprise and what she could only describe as fear.

Then, he was gone.

Kenna woke up.

She let out a heavy sigh, unable to believe that she'd just told off the devil. Her hands were shaking and tears were streaming down her face, but she closed her eyes, sunk down into the seat, and wrapped her arms around Dean. She placed his head over her heart and held him close, running her fingers through his hair.

"We're going to be okay, Dean," she whispered. "You, me, and Sam."

Kenna pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead and held him even tighter.

"I promise you…we're going to be okay…"


	88. Chapter 88

His eyes slowly cracked open as Dean felt the sun filter into the Impala through the still-foggy windows. Despite the discomfort of the door handle digging into his back and the sticky leather clinging to his bare skin, it was probably the best night's sleep he'd had in over a year. He glanced down and ran his fingers through Kenna's hair, cupping the back of her head and gently pressing her cheek into his bare chest. He lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of hers.

He wrapped his arms around her, held her as tight as he could, and watched her sleep for a while, knowing it just might be his last chance to do so.

Dean slowly reached up behind him and smeared some of the condensation off the back window. The sun was getting brighter by the second and tall billows of steam were rising up from the dew-covered grass outside.

If he knew the coming events would be different, Dean would actually say it was going to be a beautiful day.

"Kenna," he whispered, and gently skimmed his fingers down the length of her bare back. His fingertips mapped out each and every one of the faint scars there, unable to decide which one he loved the most. He nuzzled into the side of her neck, pressing his open mouth to her skin.

Kenna moaned and smiled softly in her sleep as her hand slid up Dean's chest, past his shoulder, and wound around to the back of his neck. She lifted her head and tugged Dean's lips down to hers. The two kissed for a long time and Kenna even shifted sensuously against him in an effort to tempt him into loving her again.

"Babe, we can't," Dean groaned, his words disappearing into her mouth.

Kenna pulled back and pouted at him, but he immediately pulled her close again.

"Not that I don't _want_ to, though," he whispered in her ear and did a little shifting of his own. Kenna blushed and hid her face in his chest. Dean couldn't help but laugh at her, but the lighthearted moment quickly turned somber.

"We gotta get goin'," Dean whispered into her hair. He cupped his hand over the back of her head and roughly pulled her lips up to his. He took his time kissing her again, doing his best to remember how soft her lips were and how good she tasted. Finally, he forced himself away from her, reached down to the floor and handed Kenna her clothes.

They dressed in silence, both of them refusing to break the moment and ruin the beauty of what was more than likely their last night together. Dean fought the urge to tell her how proud he was of her, how amazed he was at her ability to trust him with her body the way she had. He also wanted to tell her how much he loved her, needed her, and still wanted her, even now.

But he bit his tongue and kept his mouth firmly shut. If this really was their last few moments together, Dean didn't want to ruin it with words. What he thought always sounded good in his head, but when he tried to say it, he usually screwed it all up.

So, instead, he followed her into the front seat of the Impala and drove them back to Bobby's.

But along the way, he reached his hand across the seat and linked his fingers through hers.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna stood back and watched in silence as Castiel poured a ring of holy oil around the inside of the huge, pine Enochian sigil in Bobby's front yard. The angel didn't look at her as he completed the circle, poured the remaining oil into a large stone bowl in the center, and tossed the unneeded pitcher aside. He silently beckoned her to the middle of the ring and handed her a small matchbook.

"After the angels are trapped in the ring and accepted into their vessels, you will need to light the oil in the center bowl as well," Castiel instructed.

"And the ritual, itself?" Kenna questioned, softly. "When do I start doing the Latin stuff?"

"You'll need to move as quickly as possible," the angel explained. "Right after you light the circle, you'll need to begin the incantation. Then, after the angels arrive, you'll light the bowl of oil."

Castiel turned to her and did his best to offer what was almost a smile. "It's not going to be easy."

Kenna nodded. She already knew that, had even prepared herself for it, but hearing it from an angel just made it that much worse.

"And no matter what happens," Cas warned, gently. "Don't stop."

The angel and the human stood there for a long moment, gazing over the Enochian ritual site. Kenna slowly reached down and took Castiel's hand in hers, gave it a squeeze and then released him.

She looked up and saw Bobby sitting on the porch with Sam and Dean. He seemed to be giving them one of his ever-famous pep talks. Kenna had already received hers, and the tight hugs that came along with it. And now, the brothers were receiving theirs as well.

Then, at the boys' insistence, Bobby wheeled himself back into the house, locking and salting the door behind him.

Sam and Dean made their way down the steps. Sam shook Castiel's hand while Dean slowly reached up and squeezed his shoulder. The same hand went up and patted the left side of the angel's face. Sam left them and slowly made his way toward Kenna.

"Sammy," she whispered, her chin already trembling and launched herself into his arms. Sam hooked one arm around her waist, the other into her hair, and hoisted her up off the ground. He held her for a long time and neither of them said a word, but Kenna could feel a few tears sliding down his cheek and landing on her shoulder.

"I love ya," he whispered, roughly and pulled back to look at her. "You know that, right?"

Kenna nodded and tried her best to smile. "I know. And I love you, too."

Sam placed her back on her feet and silently made his way into the center of the circle to wait for his brother. Kenna watched as Dean reached up to pat Castiel's shoulder one last time, but the angel was already gone.

The older brother took a few slow steps toward Kenna and for a moment, he couldn't even look at her, but finally stilled his wandering gaze and let it settle into hers. For a long moment, the couple just stared at each other, neither one of them knowing what to say.

Unable to stand it any longer, Kenna moved first. She rushed to Dean, their lips instantly colliding passionately in a long, desperate, soul-searing kiss.

Finally, when neither of them could breathe, Kenna wrapped her arms around Dean's shoulders, pressed two kisses to his cheek and held onto him as tight as she could. She didn't tell him about her late night visit from Lucifer or the vast rewards he'd offered her in exchange for Sam.

None of that mattered. Kenna knew what Dean's choice would have been and she was confident that she'd made the right one.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here," she whispered tearfully, speaking reverently of her love for him.

Dean shook his head, fighting tears of his own. "Better late than never," he replied into her hair.

Kenna slowly pulled back and kissed him again. "I love you," she vowed, passionately. "I love you so much, Dean."

He nodded and pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you too, babe."

Kenna wanted to promise that she wouldn't let him down, that she would perform the ritual perfectly, and she'd see him whole, perfect, and one hundred percent Dean Winchester in a matter of minutes.

But she couldn't promise him that, and no more words were needed, anyway.

Dean reached down, gripped Kenna's hand in his and slowly led them to the center of the circle. He released her for just a moment and pulled his brother into a tight hug. Neither one of them said a word, but couldn't hold back the years-old wave of tears desperately needing to break free.

"You ready?" Kenna whispered.

The brothers nodded and released their hold on one another. Kenna gripped the matchbook in her hand and took out two matches. She lit the oil ring, watched the line spread out from either side of the fallen match and meet on the other end. Then, she stepped to the center and prepared the second match in her hands.

She took one last good look at Sam and Dean, closed her eyes, and began to recite the incantation. Her Latin was perfect, every word uttered flawlessly, and when she opened her eyes, quickly saw that it was working.

At the exact same moment, Sam and Dean fell forward, crumpling to their knees, in what looked like complete agony. They were both groaning in pain, clutching their stomachs in their hands while tears streamed down their faces.

Cas had warned her not to stop, no matter what, and it took every ounce of strength Kenna had not to do just that.

The trees surrounding Bobby's yard began to whip back and forth as a mighty wind swept through their branches. Huge, dark clouds quickly covered the sun. Thunder rumbled and lightening split the sky.

The angels had arrived.

Kenna heard no voices, but could tell that Sam and Dean did.

They both nodded and simultaneously screamed the same word.

"_YES!" _

That word. The only one that mattered…

Kenna's hair whipped against her face, her clothes nearly blowing from her body, but she quickly completed the ritual, silently praying it would work.

Suddenly, both brothers bowed forward, their bodies nearly concaving into themselves. They each let out a long, guttural scream which seemed to last forever, then…

Everything went still.

As Kenna looked on, both men slowly rose to their feet, their movements crisp and deliberate. Sam opened his eyes and Dean's quickly followed.

Sam's were black with a thick line of red coating the outer rim. Dean's were a stark, bright blue. Even brighter and more mesmerizing than Castiel's.

Kenna's hand trembled as she pressed the red-tipped match into the side of the matchbook, waiting for just the right time to light the oil filled bowl.

Sam gazed at Dean and the left corner of his mouth turned up, slowly. Dean's face quickly matched his expression perfectly. The brother's stared at one another for a long moment and shared a slow, silent nod.

"Hello, Michael," Sam said, slowly.

Dean smiled. "Hello, Lucifer."

**-Please review. I need them BADLY. Lots of love, Leigh**


	89. Chapter 89

"Hello, Michael," Sam said, slowly.

Dean smiled. "Hello, Lucifer."

Kenna's chest heaved and chin trembled as she watched the epic scene unfolding before her. It was a grand piece of prophecy, long foretold for thousands of years, and somehow, she was strangely honored to be a part of it.

Sam and Dean were gone, completely replaced by two other brothers. Ancient, holy men who had been waiting for this day since before the fall of man. They had seen it all take place. Everything from the very beginning.

The creation of the universe, the fall of man, the fall of Lucifer, himself. They had seen the Son of God go to earth as a baby, made man, and born to die for all of mankind. Then they watched Him ascend and take His throne at the right hand of the Father.

Michael had joined them.

But Lucifer had not.

They had both seen every war, every birth, and every death. They had watched history unfold right before their very eyes. Kenna wondered if they ever laughed, cried, or applauded and if they did, then for what.

From what she'd heard from Castiel, she knew both brothers actually desired the same thing. The same end to the epic battle.

They both wanted Paradise. A virtual no man's land.

And the only thing standing in their way was mankind, angels, demons…and each other.

Kenna couldn't help but wonder where the angels' entourages were. Part of her had thought they would all come here to watch the battle commence, but no one came. Perhaps they were hiding, too afraid to watch what they all knew was coming. Too afraid of what the outcome would be.

So, instead there were only three present.

Yet, Kenna was all alone.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and noticed that neither of the brothers seemed to notice her presence. Their eyes remained glued to the other, never drifting to anything else.

Her grip on the match tightened as she began to slide the tip along the side of the box. This time, the tiny scratching sound reached their ears.

"McKenna…" Lucifer purred, suddenly. He clicked his tongue, scolding her and slowly turned his head to look into her eyes. His voice was not his own. It belonged to Sam. "You don't want to do that, sweetheart."

Michael's gaze followed his brother's, his bright blue eyes burrowing into Kenna's soul. "For once I agree with my brother, McKenna," he said, using Dean's voice. "It would really be in your best interest to just…walk away."

Deep down, Kenna knew they were right. It would be better for her if she simply walked away and never looked back. It would be better for _her_…but not for Sam and Dean.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Everything in McKenna's life had happened for a reason. Her kidnapping at age five, her parents' death, and her time spent in the Compound, her rescue by Castiel. Even her Cancer. If it hadn't been for all of that, she never would have met Sam and Dean.

And she never would've ended up here, as the performer of the ritual that would save, not only them, but possibly the rest of mankind as well.

So, she decided to completely ignore the angels' warnings, disregard their threats and do exactly what she was born to do.

Kenna's fingers trembled as she closed her eyes, and whispered, _"Validus angelus cado quod pereo."_

The moment the words flowed over her tongue and past her lips, everything seemed to slow down…

Kenna slid the match against the side of the box and a tiny flame erupted from the red tip. She held her hand over the bowl of oil and slowly let the match slip through her fingers. The tiny flame fell, reached the liquid and exploded.

The oil burst up and out of the bowl. Deep blue flames sparked from the surface of the liquid with a matching flash of white light.

Kenna lifted her arm and hid her eyes from the blaze within the crook of her elbow. She backed away from the bowl, nearly falling to the ground as she went. The heat and power from the blaze quickly grew unbearable and Kenna finally crumpled to her knees.

She covered her ears with her hands, but even that couldn't mask the harrowing sound of Michael and Lucifer's screams.

Kenna looked up, but could nothing but stay on the ground and watch as both angels fell to their knees again. They clutched their chests, screaming and begging for mercy. The flame flashed even brighter and released a loud screech of its own. Kenna pressed her palms into her ears, nearly squeezing her skull in the process, but it still did no good.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide form the sights and sounds surrounding her. And it seemed to be hurting Michael and Lucifer even more than it did her. The brothers were clawing at the ground, their eyes wide open.

Lucifer's were now blood red while Michael's were a bright, glowing white.

Lightening continued to flash, the wind howled, and thunder rumbled overhead.

Michael screamed. Lucifer shrieked. The flame within the bowl grew hotter, brighter, and bigger. It whistled and howled with a screech of its own.

If Kenna had been watching, she would have seen Michael and Lucifer's bodies fill with a flash of burning, bright yellow light. It started in their bellies, rose into their chests, and seeped out from every single pore in their bodies until it finally exploded.

The sounds continued to build, higher and higher, reaching an incredible crescendo.

Then, just as before…everything stopped.

Kenna's whole body shuddered with every breath she took. Hot tears streamed down her face as thunder continued to groan in the distance. She slowly lifted her head.

Lucifer was recovering first.

His body shifted on the ground, arched his back, and lifted his head with a groan His eyes met and locked with Kenna's.

They were a beautiful, familiar hazel.

"Kenna?" he choked, and slowly slid his body across the wet ground until he was right next to her. He coughed and sputtered, tried to breathe. "Are you all right?"

Kenna's hand trembled as she reached up to touch his cheek. "Sammy?" she sobbed. "Is it really you?"

The younger Winchester brother nodded, reached down and ran his hands over his chest. He could feel his hands as they touched his neck, patted his cheeks, and clasped his palm on top of Kenna's.

He could feel her, too.

"Yeah," he answered, breathlessly. "He's gone…Lucifer's gone."

Tears streamed down Kenna's cheeks as she pulled Sam into a tight hug. "The ritual worked," she whispered and looked to the sky. "Oh, thank God the ritual worked."

She squeezed Sam one last time, turned him loose and crawled her way across the ground until she reached Dean. Her hands went to his chest, slid up to his face, and gently shook him.

"Dean," she begged. "Dean, baby? Wake up."

He didn't move.

"Dean," Kenna said again. "Dean…can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Oh, God…no." Panic was taking over and Kenna could taste bile in the back of her throat. "No, no, no. Come on, baby. It worked for Sam, so it worked for you. Please…_Sam_!" Kenna turned her head, reached her hand out and beckoned to him.

"Sam, what's going on? _Dean_!" She gripped his shoulders and shook.

Sam rushed to Kenna's side and was nearly there, when Dean's arm shot up and slammed into Kenna. She was sent flying through the air, over the pine logs, and the ring of fire within it. Her body landed with a heavy thud outside the circle…and stayed there.

She didn't move.

Sam stood aside and stared at his brother's back as he slowly rose to his feet. He popped his neck and slowly turned to face Sam.

"Dean?" he choked.

He opened his eyes. They were bright blue.

Sam could feel a sudden wave of nausea churning in the pit of his stomach. The man standing before him wasn't his brother. It wasn't Dean.

It was Michael.

"Hello, Sam," he smiled and slowly glanced around the circle, his expression a happy one. "So, I see that my brother is gone."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I guess he couldn't take the heat," he said, referring to the still burning ring of holy oil. "Or maybe I was just too much for him."

The angel chuckled and his lips turned up in a perfect grin. "Oh, Sam…you still possess that wonderful faith of a child. My Father appreciates that but I've always enjoyed a little more…maturity."

"What are you talking about?" Sam gulped.

"The only reason why my brother is dead, is not because of you," Michael explained. "He didn't fear _you_ in any way, Sam…he feared _me_."

The angel lifted Dean's arms, held them out to the sides and looked down at his vessel's body. "I am far more powerful than my brother ever was, which also means that _your_ brother is far more powerful than _you_ ever were. He's more mature and clearly strong enough to hold me for as long as I wish."

Sam popped his neck and sneered at the angel, but didn't say a word.

The angel clasped his hands together and pointed his first two fingers at Sam as he spoke. "If our vessels were reversed and it was I going into you, I probably would've died, just like my brother. But thankfully," he stepped closer, staring straight into Sam's eyes. "That was not the case."

Sam diverted his gaze away from the angel and glanced through the flames, searching for McKenna. She was still lying in a limp, unconscious heap on the ground. His first instinct was to run to her, pick her up, toss her in the nearest car, and get the hell out of dodge. He didn't know what Michael was going to do and didn't really want to stick around long enough to find out.

But if Sam did that, he wouldn't just be leaving Michael.

He'd be leaving Dean, too.

"Where's my brother?" Sam finally asked.

Michael shrugged and gazed down at his new body again. "He's in here…somewhere."

Sam felt hot tears stinging his eyes. "Is he all right?"

The angel smiled, winked, and the expression was so much like Dean, that for a moment, Sam wondered if it was really him.

"Just think of it as though Dean's in a walking, talking coma," the angel offered, smiling. "He's walking…he's talking…but he's in a coma."

Sam closed his eyes, tightened his jaw, and wondered what the repercussions would be if he punched an angel.

"Don't worry, Sammy." Michael leaned in close and whispered, "I promise I'll take good care of him."

Sam opened his eyes and gazed deep, into Michael's. They were still bright blue. The exact opposite of Dean's usual emerald green.

"So…" Sam finally ventured. "What happens now? I mean, your brother's dead. The battle was over before it even began. You won, Michael. You don't need Dean."

The angel grinned, reached up, and playfully smacked his palm on Sam's chest. "That's where you would be wrong, Sam," he began. "Yes, there's no longer any need for an epic battle between my brother and I, which is a _real_ bummer if you ask me, but I still have a whole planet to cleanse and the End of Days to bring…and I can't do that without a vessel."

Sam's chin trembled as he finally realized exactly what the angel was saying.

Lucifer was dead. He had already lost. But that didn't matter.

Because so had Dean.

Overhead, thunder continued to rumble and the dark clouds were slowly beginning to roll in again. Michael lifted his head and smiled. "Tut-tut, it looks like rain, Sammy. I like rain. It has a lovely habit of…putting out fires."

The angel held out his arms again and turned in a slow circle, silently gesturing to the burning holy oil. It was the only thing containing him and keeping him from doing what he planned, and what he planned was the destruction of the entire planet.

Starting with Sam and McKenna.

Sam lifted his head and felt a few raindrops land on his upturned face. A flash of lightening sparked in the distance, quickly followed by another loud roll of thunder. It didn't leave them much time.

Michael smiled at Sam's obvious panic and politely gestured outside the ring to Kenna's fallen form.

"Yes, I suggest you be on your way, Sammy," the angel smiled. "Because the moment this fire is extinguished, I'm going to be quite busy. Instead of bringing hell on earth, I'll be bringing heaven, but…surprisingly enough, the two are quite similar."

As the storm overhead continued to build, Sam turned his back on the laughing angel, jumped over the logs and through the flames. He landed on the ground with a roll, quickly got to his feet, and ran to Kenna. He crouched to the ground, cupped one hand behind her head and the other beneath her knees. He picked her up, lifted his head, and searched for the nearest car.

The Shelby was closer, and though neither of them would ever tell Dean, it was actually faster than the Impala.

Sam could still hear Michael cackling as he placed Kenna in the front seat, slid across the hood, and quickly climbed behind the wheel. The clouds above finally broke free as Sam started the car and pressed his foot into the gas pedal.

He took off down the driveway as fast as he could, but he had no idea where he was going…

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

_**-**_**Please REVIEW.**


	90. Chapter 90

Sam had only driven a few miles beyond Bobby's driveway when McKenna began to stir in the seat next to him. Her head rolled back and forth against the leather as she choked out a pained moan. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks before she finally allowed her eyes to open.

"Dean?" she groaned.

Her body clearly wasn't ready for the quick movements she was forcing upon it, but Kenna didn't care. Her gaze shifted back and forth, bouncing from the ceiling, to the floor, the dashboard, and back again. Before Sam could stop her, she whirled her head around, looked in the backseat, clearly hoping to find Dean.

But he wasn't there.

"Where's Dean?" she asked, panicking as she turned to look at Sam. "Sam? Where is he?"

At first, Sam couldn't answer, couldn't even look her in the eye. It was just too horrible to tell McKenna the man she loved, the man she trusted more than anyone else on the planet, was gone. And probably just as good as dead.

Sam fixed his eyes on the road and didn't utter a sound.

"Sam!" Kenna finally screamed when he didn't answer her. "Where's Dean? And what the _hell_ happened back there?"

She winced when she turned her head again. It had been days ago, but her body still showed signs of the brutal beating the demon had given her.

Sam could see how she still favored her ribs, how her body still moved slower and stiffer than usual. Her eye was still bruised and puffy, and now after being thrown a hundred feet through the air, she exhibited obvious signs of total body soreness.

But it didn't seem to matter. She shifted in the seat, panicking and moving much too quickly, arms flailing as she continued to search the car for Dean.

Sam gripped the wheel with his left hand while he reached across the seat with his right. He touched Kenna's knee, pressed his palm into her lap, and even hooked a finger through one of her belt loops, anything to get her to calm down.

But nothing worked.

Finally, Sam slammed on the breaks and pulled over onto the side of the road. He watched Kenna's trembling hands as she fumbled for the door handle, struggling to see beyond her blinding tears.

"Kenna," don't," Sam, commanded, but the words didn't leave his lips fast enough. She was already out the door and running, with the full intention of heading back to Bobby's. Sam immediately dove from the car and took off after her, ignoring the pouring rain.

Kenna was surprisingly fast for a girl who'd had her ass kicked by a demon and been thrown through the air by an angel, but Sam was still faster. It took only a quick sprint for him to catch up with her, but when he did, Kenna didn't make it easy.

"No! Get off me!" she screeched, as Sam grabbed her arm and tried to whirl her around to face him. "Let me go!"

She pushed him away, and took off again, but this time, Sam grabbed her, locked his arms around her waist, and jerked her back, flush against his chest. She still struggled and he was forced to pull her down to the wet ground, below.

"Kenna, stop it!" he screamed, but his voice quickly softened. "Stop it..."

"Where's Dean, Sam?" she whimpered. "Where is he?"

Sam's chin trembled as he fought against the growing wave of emotion rising up behind his eyes.

"He's gone," he finally whispered, smoothing his fingers through Kenna's soaking, wet hair. "I'm so sorry, Kenna…Dean's gone."

"No…" Kenna moaned and Sam felt the vibrations of her body heaving against his own. He pulled her closer and held onto her as tight as he could. He could barely hear Kenna's sobs over the storm, but he could clearly hear his own.

He dropped his head forward, resting his forehead against Kenna's back in an effort to borrow some of the strength he hoped was still within her.

The two stayed there, on their knees by the side of the road, rain pelting down and stinging their skin. Their wet clothes acted as suctions and adhered their bodies together, Kenna's back to Sam's chest.

Thunder rumbled overheard.

Lightening split the sky.

Sam lifted his gaze and remembered being afraid of such thunderstorms when he was little and how his father used to tell him it was just the angels bowling.

Sam bowed his head and silently wished that were really true.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

He drove for hours, though it felt like days, through small towns that almost seemed familiar. Perhaps he and Dean had worked a case their before, or maybe they had passed through years ago with their dad.

Sam wasn't sure, nor did he really care.

As night began to set in, he passed more than one horrific car accident, and was also passed by more than one speeding ambulance or screaming fire truck. They were probably normal occurrences, a simple car accident, and a regular house fire, things that happened every day. But this time Sam actually noticed them, and couldn't help but wonder if they weren't that normal after all, couldn't help but speculate if it were some great supernatural, angelic doing.

And to add insult to injury, the epic thunderstorm had followed them the whole trip, which by now had spanned across almost four states. Sam glanced at the sign up ahead, welcoming them to Indiana. He hadn't touched the radio, not even once, afraid to turn it on and hear news stories telling of worldwide destruction and chaos.

Earthquakes, tidal waves, volcanoes erupting, landslides, wild fires, terrorist attacks. Anything was possible now and Sam knew that better than anyone.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at McKenna.

_Well, maybe there's one other person who knows it just as well as I do…_

Sam reached up his left hand and swiped it down the center of his face, letting out a heavy sigh. Kenna had been sitting in the passenger's seat, simply gazing out the window ever since Sam had picked her up from the side of the road and physically placed her there.

And she hadn't said one word.

"There's a motel a few miles up ahead," Sam mumbled, nodding his head at an oncoming sign. "You ready to stop for the night?"

Kenna nodded, but kept her lips tightly sealed.

Sam knew it was going to be one of the nasty, little no-name motels she hated, simply basing it on the fact that the sign advertised it as being "CLEAN!" which, in reality meant it probably wasn't. But he also knew Kenna was more than likely beyond caring right now.

If she were anything like him, Sam knew she wasn't going to be doing much in the sleeping department tonight, anyway.

He silently reminded himself to call Bobby when they got to the motel. He needed to know if he was all right, needed to know if he had survived within the safety of the Panic Room.

Sam saw the motel sign up ahead, noting how only the last three letters were lit up. Hoping it wasn't the sign of a bad omen, Sam pulled into the parking lot, and unlike he and Dean's past hunts with Kenna, only booked one room.

Given her behavior that day, he simply couldn't stand the thought of leaving her alone. He'd already lost Dean. He couldn't bear to lose Kenna too.

Hotel keys in hand, Sam parked the Shelby in the room's designated spot and quickly made his way around to the passenger side. He opened the door, took Kenna's hand and helped her out. She moved slowly, stiffly, almost in a zombie-like state. She slowly led Sam to the trunk and patted it with the palm of her hand.

"There's an emergency bag in here," she muttered, choking out her first words in nearly six hours. "There's some food, water, medicine…and I stole a day's worth of clothes from you and…Dean…and put them in there, too." She struggled on Dean's name for a moment, but somehow managed to say it.

"Just in case," she added, quickly.

Sam almost chuckled. "Wow. I'm impressed."

Kenna simply shrugged like it was no big deal.

Sam popped the trunk, grabbed the bag, a few guns, two knives, and headed into the motel room. He placed the weapons on the table by the door and Kenna tried to slip the bag from Sam's shoulder.

But the weight was too much, too heavy for her weakened condition. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over her and Kenna's knees buckled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Sam muttered and rushed forward to catch her. "Easy. I gotcha. You okay?"

"Yeah." Kenna nodded. "Just really tired."

Sam wasn't surprised. In fact, he was amazed she'd lasted this long. He gently led Kenna's fragile form to the nearest bed and forced her to sit down. He pulled the medical supplies from Kenna's magic emergency bag and laid everything out on the mattress. He slowly lifted his gaze and tried to offer her a small smile.

"Is it okay if I take a look at you?" he asked, holding up a salve for her sore muscles. Kenna nodded, lay on her back, and lifted her shirt just enough for Sam to apply it to her bruised ribs.

She fixed her gaze on the ugly paisley wallpaper and tried not to think of how Dean's lips had been in that exact same spot the night before.

"What are you doing?" she had giggled, arching away from his ticking touch, her body stretching out on the back seat of the Shelby.

She remembered feeling him smile against her tender flesh and whisper, "I'm kissin' it better."

Kenna closed her eyes to the memory and a single tear trickled down her cheek. She reached up and tried to brush it away, hoping Sam wouldn't see it, but she was too late.

"Kenna…" he whispered softly, hoping the gentle tone would bring her some comfort. "It's gonna be okay."

She almost laughed, despite the lingering soreness across her torso. "Yeah, sure it is, Sammy…Dean's dead."

He lifted his head, pulled her shirt back down and growled, "Don't you _dare_ say that."

Kenna closed her eyes and turned her head in silent apology. Sam was right. Technically, Dean wasn't dead.

_But given the situation, it'd probably be easier if he were…_

Kenna winced as she forced herself to sit up. Sam gently took hold of her jaw, turned her face, and looked at her black eye. It was finally starting to look a little better.

"Does anything new hurt?" he asked.

"Everything." Kenna nodded, but was clearly confused by his question.

Sam frowned and shook his head. He still hadn't told her exactly what happened after the ritual failed. He hadn't told her that Michael, in Dean's body, had flung her nearly a hundred feet through the air, with nothing more than a flick of his wrist.

_And I'm not gonna tell her now anyway…_

"It's probably just a residual affect from the demon beating you up," he half lied. "The second and third day is always the hardest."

Kenna nodded, seemingly happy enough with that.

"So…" she mumbled, reaching up to rub a sore spot on the back of her neck. "What do we do now?"

Sam didn't say anything. Instead, he simply gazed at the horrible, barf-colored carpet, below.

It was hard to offer an answer when you simply didn't have one to give…

**-Please REVIEW...Thank you. **


	91. Chapter 91

The next three days were agonizing ones.

Sam had spent them sneaking out of the motel room to sit in the Shelby and listen to the radio. And unsurprisingly, he had been right before. The world was slowly falling into complete chaos, overwhelmed by tsunamis, earthquakes, flooding, and torrential rain, much of which continued to fall right over Sam and McKenna's heads.

As if the slow, leisurely destruction of the whole planet wasn't enough, Sam had come to the conclusion that Kenna was slowly killing herself.

And the scariest part was that she didn't even realize it.

Kenna hadn't eaten a thing, no matter how many times Sam begged her. And she spent most of her time in the shower, scrubbing her skin beet red and raw in an attempt to wash herself clean of the filth she swore was there again. Once, Sam had left to pick up some supplies and apparently stayed away too long. He'd found Kenna an hour later balled up in a fetal position on the shower floor, ice-cold water pelting down on her bare skin. He'd been forced to pull her out from under the long since hot water's spray, wrap her in a towel and place her in bed.

But of course, she didn't sleep.

Late afternoon, day three found Sam hiding in the Shelby again for what must have been the hundredth time. Though thanks to a slight break in the weather, it was the first time his cell phone finally had enough of a signal to get a hold of Bobby.

"Sam?" the old hunter asked, his voice nearly drowned out by static. "Son? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Bobby it's me," Sam answered, quickly. "The _real_ me. I promise. Are you all right?"

"Well, my back yard looks like somebody dropped a damn A-bomb on it, but the house is still standin'," he said. "A few broken windows, but other than that, it's okay."

Sam closed his eyes and almost smiled. He'd never in his life been happier to hear a friendly voice. And the fact that it was Bobby, alive and well, made it all the more incredible. The older hunter went on to explain how he'd seen Michael break free from the ring of fire and quickly take off, apparently hell-bent on getting right to work.

And based on the news stories, he was having one hell of a good time doing it, too.

"Now, Sam, please tell me Kenna's with you," Bobby begged. "Tell me she's all right."

"Yes, she's with me," Sam said, glumly and looked out the rainy window for a long moment, wishing he had a better answer to the second part of Bobby's question. "But…she's definitely not all right."

Before he could stop it, Sam felt a tear slide down his right cheek. "I can't get her to eat, Bobby," he groaned, helplessly. "She's not sleeping, she won't talk to me…she's in really bad shape."

The older hunter didn't say anything and Sam was not happy.

"Bobby," he choked as another wave of emotion slowly rose up in the back of his throat. "What do I do?"

"You stay with her," Bobby finally answered. "Push her to eat, keep an eye on her, and no matter what, _don't move_."

Sam arched a brow, despite the fact that Bobby couldn't see it.

"Stay where you are, Sam," he said again. "The whole damn world's gone crazy out there. The government's even shut down a few major highways now, and it's only gonna get worse."

This time, Sam nodded, though he knew Bobby couldn't see that either.

"You and Kenna are all I have left, boy," Bobby whispered, his voice shaking. "So, stay where you are…where I know you're safe."

Sam promised he'd stay put, told Bobby he'd do his best to take care of Kenna, and call again when he could. Then, the two men said their goodbyes and hung up.

He honestly wasn't sure how well he'd be able to keep his promise about looking after Kenna, but in a strange way, Sam was almost grateful for her fallen state. His worry for her was all he had, all he had to lean on. In fact, if he didn't have her and he was all alone, he'd probably be just as lost and doing the exact same thing.

_Maybe even worse…_

Sam reached up, gripped the Shelby's steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the center of the wheel.

The rain continued to fall outside, saturating the earth with water and moisture, but inside, deep within his soul, Sam had never felt so thirsty.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"He really misses you, you know…"

McKenna felt the familiar voice speak the words against her skin more than she actually heard them. She groaned and jerked her bare arm from him, feeling the familiar caress of his fingers as she pulled away.

She pushed her weak, food deprived frame up from the mattress and flipped over onto her back, supporting her head against all the pillows Sam had given her earlier. Her eyes blinked slowly, and she was even forced to do a double take when she saw him sitting at the foot of her bed.

For a moment, Kenna had to fight the urge to throw herself into his familiar arms and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. But then, she had to remind herself that it wasn't him.

It wasn't her Dean.

Kenna had battled a three-day war against sleep, if only for this very reason, but clearly, she'd finally lost.

"I'm dreaming again, aren't I?" she groaned.

Michael nodded, but didn't say a word.

"So…what do you want now?" she asked with a shrug. "Are you here for a specific reason, or did you just want to drop in, say hi, and wave Dean's body around in front of my face?"

Michael frowned and shook his head as he reached forward and gently skimmed Dean's fingertips up the bare skin of her forearm.

"Don't touch me!" Kenna screeched and ripped her arm away as though the contact burned her like a hot iron.

"I'm actually doing this as a favor to him," Michael whispered and slowly eased back to the end of the bed again. "He asked to see you."

Kenna's eyes grew large and her chin began to tremble. She rose to her knees and crawled across the mattress, hesitantly inching toward the angel.

"You mean…?" she choked, and reached up, her hand hovering in the air, clearly afraid to actually touch him. "You mean he's really in there?"

Michael nodded, but quickly diverted his gaze from hers.

It was the first time Kenna had ever seen him as something other than just another angel-dick. Right now by allowing himself to appear to her in this dream, just to let Dean see her, was a great sign of humiliation.

He was being humble. Almost kind.

Kenna's hand trembled as she slowly inched her palm closer to Michael's cheek, but she paused just as her skin made contact with his.

He blinked, instantly realizing what was wrong.

"I can change the eye color," he whispered. "If that's what you need."

"No," Kenna said, shaking her head. "It's all right."

For a moment, she almost took the angel up on his offer, but quickly thought better of it. It was bad enough, touching a man that wasn't really Dean, but it would be ten times worse if she had to look into his emerald green eyes while doing it.

She skimmed her palm along his cheek, enjoying the familiar sensation of Dean's short stubble against her skin.

Michael closed his deep blue eyes and leaned into the touch. In that moment, he looked and acted so much like Dean it was almost frightening.

"Can he see me?" Kenna asked and a single tear slid down her cheek.

Michael nodded.

"Can he hear me?"

Again, Michael nodded in silent answer.

"I love you, Dean," Kenna whispered quickly, without even thinking twice. Her emotions quickly caught up with her and she rambled on, unable to stop. "I love you so much, baby, and I miss you. And Sam misses you, too. And we're going to do everything we can to get you back and—"

"That's enough," Michael growled, reached up, and jerked Kenna's hand from his face. He rose to his feet and turned his back on her, silently saying his short-lived generosity had officially come to close. Kenna closed her eyes and bowed her head.

The moment was over.

A loud gasp burst from Kenna's lips as she opened her eyes and lifted her head. She was still in the motel room.

But Michael was gone.

Sam was lying on the other bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles neatly crossed. He was watching a muted TV, but quickly turned it off the moment he realized she was awake.

"Hey," he whispered, an almost smiled tugging at his lips. He quickly noticed the fear in her eyes and his expression quickly changed. He swung his legs off the side of the mattress and looked at her. "Hey, are you all right?"

"You let me fall asleep?" Kenna asked, her jaw tight, teeth grinding together.

Sam remained silent, but nodded shamefully.

Kenna swung her own legs over the side of her mattress and glared at him. "Don't ever do that again," she growled, stood to her feet, and stomped to the bathroom.

Two seconds later, Sam heard her turn on the shower.

**-I hope you're all still enjoying it. Please REVIEW. -Leigh **


	92. Chapter 92

Three quick pulsing vibrations against his chest awakened Sam.

He squinted, blinked but his vision was only met with darkness. The vibrations pulsed again and he glanced down. It was his cell phone lying on his chest. He was in bed in the hotel room, resting on his back. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep.

Sam lifted the phone to his ear with a groan and saw the time was after two in the morning, but he never bothered to check the incoming caller's number.

"Hello?" he barked, the sound coming out a bit more harshly than he meant it to.

"Yeah, is this Wedge?" a male voice asked.

Sam frowned. "What?"

_Who the hell is Wedge?_

Then, Sam remembered. Wedge Antilles. One of his many aliases. One of the only names he was surprised that people actually accepted. The only time he'd ever had anybody call him on it was a fifteen-year-old kid in Ohio. He and Dean had been working a poltergeist case at the kid's family's home. Sam introduced himself as an FBI agent, offered his hand, and told him his name. The kid frowned at him and pointed to the Jedi Knight poster hanging on his closet door.

"Dude," the kid scoffed. "Don't kid a kidder, man."

In fact, Sam hadn't used the name in so long, he'd almost forgotten all about it.

"Yeah, this is Wedge," he finally answered. "Who's this?"

"Name's Pat," the man said. "I'm the bartender at Tiny's Bar on Route 4. Your girlfriend gave me this number and said to call you."

Sam frowned again. "My girlfriend?"

Then it dawned on him. Sam sat up and turned his head. The other bed was empty.

McKenna was gone.

"Aw, dammit," he swore softly.

"Yeah, I'd say the same thing if I were you," Pat the bartender muttered. "She's tearin' the place apart right now."

If the situation were any different, Sam would've busted out laughing. In fact, he could almost imagine Kenna picking up a barstool and tossing it across the room, using nothing but the surprising strength of her two bare hands.

"Now, she's a nice girl and I don't wanna call the cops on her," Pat continued. "But I'm tryin' to make a livin' here, man. So, get down here and bring your girl home, all right?"

With that, the bartender hung up the phone.

Sam quickly pushed the covers aside and stood to his feet, ignoring the initial head rush swimming in his skull from standing up too fast. He went to Kenna's bed, noticed the mussed up sheets, and pressed his palm against the mattress. For a moment, he could almost swear he felt a residual heat emanating from the soft surface, left behind from when she'd last laid there.

He silently hoped she hadn't been gone too long.

Sam pulled a striped button-up shirt on over his t-shirt, pulled on a pair of jeans, and found Kenna's car keys still resting on top of the TV set. He walked to the window and pushed aside the heavy curtains. The Shelby was still parked in its designated spot.

Sam let out a heavy sigh.

_Great…_

He remembered seeing the bar when they'd first rolled into town and he estimated it was about a mile down the road. Sam hated the thought of Kenna walking all the way there in the dark, alone. Whether she was packing or not, anything could've happened to her.

But then again, with the way she'd been feeling lately…maybe she actually _wanted_ something to happen to her.

Sam grabbed his jacket, took the keys, and headed to the bar. At the moment, he could only imagine what would be waiting for him when he got there.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

The parking lot was silent and held only one other car and three motorcycles when Sam pulled in. He climbed out from behind the wheel and made his way into the bar, noting how clean and tidy the front doorway was. There were even potted plants hanging on either side of the attractive wood door. But instead of clay pots, the owner used cowboy boots to hold the soil. And next to them were pretty, wooden welcome signs that managed to do just what they claimed.

They actually made you feel welcomed.

Sam almost smiled. It figured Kenna would pick such a well-decorated place. Proving that even the bars she chose were relatively classy.

He pulled open the door and the soft strains country music trickled out into the chilly parking lot. Sam let himself in and was surprised to find…pretty much nothing.

A few chairs were overturned and a broken beer bottle lay on the hardwood floor, but the place was quiet except for the quiet scream of a steel guitar coming from the jukebox in the back. The only person he saw was a big, burly man behind the counter, wiping down the large wooden bar.

"Are you Pat?" Sam asked and slowly made his way toward the man.

He nodded, lifted his head, and almost smiled. "And you must be Wedge."

Sam returned the man's nod, lifted his right arm and swept it through the air, silently gesturing to the room. "No offense, but this doesn't look as bad as I expected."

The bartender chuckled. "Well, believe me, it looked worse." He paused and pointed to what appeared to be a pile of kindling swept into the corner. "That used to be a barstool. And those two…" He paused again and pointed to two unconscious men laid out in a nearby booth. "Used to be standing."

An apology quickly pushed itself to the tip of Sam's tongue, but it never made its way past his lips.

Suddenly, a loud, harrowing groan filled the room, originating from the back hallway. A large biker, decked out from head to toe in leather, flew across the room and landed on a nearby pool table with a loud thud. He lifted his head and screamed in horror as a pair of tiny fists came down and collided with is face, over and over and over again.

Sam was left speechless and frozen where he stood as he watched Kenna climb onto the pool table and straddle the man's gut. She continued to hit him as hard as she possibly could and Sam wasn't very surprised at her impressive ability to administer a good, solid punch. This was Kenna and he'd always expected her to be very good at what she did. Whether it be hunting, shooting, driving…

Or apparently, a bar fight.

The bartender watched Kenna for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips and surprisingly enough, he made no move to stop her.

"She hustled his buddies at pool about an hour ago," he began, pointing again to the unconscious men in the booth. "They were pretty upset about bein' beat by a girl, but that wasn't what started this."

Sam winced and sucked in a rush of air through his teeth as he watched Kenna lift her arm and slam her elbow into the biker's jaw, but did his best to listen to Pat as well.

"Well, then what _did_ start all this?" he asked, raising his voice above Kenna's blows and the biker's pained grunts.

"Well, despite their loss, I guys the guys still found her pretty attractive," Pat went on. "So, one of 'em got a little bit too close."

Sam's eyes went wide with panic and the tone of his voice instantly deepened, changing to a protective grunt. "Did they touch her?"

"Tried to," Pat answered. "But she stopped 'em."

Sam frowned. "How?"

The bartender didn't answer. Instead, he simply arched his eyebrows and nodded his head at the massacre occurring in the barroom. Sam closed his eyes and groaned.

_Oh, she stopped them, all right…_

Despite Kenna's continuing attack, Sam almost smiled at the irony.

For the past three days, Kenna had been too depressed to put on any makeup, and she hadn't lifted a finger to do anything to her hair either. But even without all that, Kenna was still a pretty girl. And he honestly couldn't blame the biker guys for trying to make a move on her.

Sam took a few careful steps toward to the pool table. As far as he could tell, Kenna hadn't even noticed him yet.

"Kenna?"

She didn't say anything, didn't even look up. Her focus was on the huge biker guy and nothing short of the drop of an A-bomb was going to break her concentration. Finally, she paused for a short second, chest heaving and gasping for breath. She brought up her fist again, but Sam caught it in his palm, just before she could slam it against the guy's jaw.

"Kenna!" Sam shouted.

She finally looked up. Her eyes blinked and a confused frown crossed her pretty features. She stared at him for a long moment, almost as though she didn't even recognize him.

Finally, clarity ensued.

"Sammy!" she squealed and a slow grin curled at her lips. Kenna pushed herself up off the now unconscious biker and crawled across the pool table, wrapped her arms around Sam's neck and giggled. "What are you doin' here?" she slurred.

Sam turned his head and glared at the bartender. Pat had failed to mention the fact that Kenna was drunk.

"I'll just get her outta here," Sam called over his shoulder to the bartender as he pulled Kenna off the table. He slipped his left arm beneath her knees and picked her up. He glanced around the barroom, noting the shredded barstool, broken beer bottles and a small rip in the carpet on the pool table.

Sam shot a quick gaze to Pat. "Do I owe you anything?"

The bartender shrugged. "Nah. Don't worry about it. Just get her home and sobered up."

Kenna lifted her head from Sam's shoulder when she heard Pat's voice. "Bye, Patty," she called. "Next time I'm in town, I'll stop back again, 'kay?"

The bartender shook his head and chuckled. "How about you check out some other bars the next time you're passin' through, baby girl," he offered kindly. "I can't afford to have you visit me again."

Kenna giggled and squeezed her arms around Sam's shoulder as he made his way toward the door.

"And you were right," Pat added, suddenly. "You're boyfriend really _is_ an angel."

Sam frowned at the bartender's words. Apparently, Pat didn't know it, but he wasn't talking about him.

He was talking about Dean.

But at least it explained Kenna's behavior and why she'd snuck out and sought refuge in a bar in the middle of the night.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam walked into the hotel room and unceremoniously dumped Kenna on her already mussed up bed. She groaned and rolled her head to the side in an effort to search for Sam. She found him at the foot of the bed, pulling off her boots.

Despite her efforts to stop them, a few tears suddenly slid down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Kenna whispered.

Sam looked up and frowned at the sight of her wet skin. Apparently the happy-go-lucky stage of her drunkenness had passed. Now she was at the depressed and sorrowful stage. He successfully removed her right boot and quickly moved onto the left, completely ignoring her apology.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," Sam scolded, gently. "You know better than to leave and go off somewhere in the middle of the night like that."

Kenna opened her mouth, but Sam didn't let her speak. "And I don't care how horrible you're feeling about everything right now," he added. "I miss him too, but that's not an excuse."

Even in her drunken state, Kenna seemed to understand what he was saying. She nodded and reached up wipe away a few more tears.

Given that this was her first real experience with drinking anything more than half a beer, Sam didn't envy how she would feel in the morning. Yet he was thankful for the clarity he knew would come to her when the sun came up. He made his way to the head of the bed and proceeded to tuck her in. Just before he stepped away, Sam felt Kenna's small hand latch onto his. He glanced at her and frowned.

"Can you sit with me?" she asked, her words still slurring a bit. "Until I fall asleep?"

Sam nodded, sat down at Kenna's bedside and almost smiled when she tucked his large hand up, under her cheek. She closed her eyes and quickly drifted off.

Sam slowly reached up and brushed a few messy strands of hair from Kenna's face. "We're gonna get Dean back, Kenna," he whispered. "I promise you…we're gonna get him back."

Sam closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

His promise wasn't an empty one. In fact, Sam already had a plan in mind, but he knew Kenna wasn't going to like it one bit.

**-Please review...Thank you. **


	93. Chapter 93

Michael stood poised on the tallest crest of the Rocky Mountains, gazing down over the latest forest fire he'd just started. Even from the safety of his high perch, far away from the danger below, he could still feel the intense heat from the roaring flames.

He tried to enjoy the destruction, knowing it was a means to an end when he suddenly heard a low, harrowing scream. It wasn't coming from the burning homes down the mountain. It was coming from deep within himself.

It was Dean Winchester…again.

Michael closed his eyes, reached up and placed his hand on his sternum in an effort to quiet the raging emotion bubbling up inside of him. It was becoming almost familiar, almost normal, and he couldn't bring himself to completely ignore it.

_Kenna…Sam…Cas…Bobby…Kenna. _

The words repeated themselves over and over and over again in an endless litany of desperation. Each name dripped with a different emotion, a different meaning. Michael could feel his vessel's pain and he actually sympathized with it.

He missed his own family the same way Dean Winchester missed his. He had tried countless times to explain that to him, but his vessel always refused to listen.

_Kenna…I want Kenna…please. _

"No," Michael whispered and gently ran his thumb back and forth over his beating heart. "No more."

The one time Michael had allowed himself to appear in McKenna's dreams was enough. And on top of that there had been at least three times he'd stopped in without her knowing, stood over her bed and let his vessel watch her sleep.

Against his will, Michael's chin had trembled and a tear slid down his cheek. The angel had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't him.

It was simply Dean.

_Please…I'm begging you…just one more time._

"No," the angel said again, a hint of remorse in his voice. "No more."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam didn't turn away from his research when he heard McKenna stirring beneath the covers of her bed. Instead, he simply reached up and turned on the coffee maker. In a matter of seconds, the dark liquid was slowly dripping into the carafe, sending its strong aroma wafting into the air.

He flipped through the papers in his hand and heard Kenna groan. Sam didn't even try to stop it when the right corner of his lips curled up.

_She's in for one hell of a hangover…_

Sam finally turned back and watched as her body writhed beneath the comforter. She moaned and groaned her discomfort and Sam was absolutely amazed to see her press her palms into the mattress, forcing herself to sit up.

"Sam?" she groaned, but was only answered with a small glass of water shoved in her face.

"Drink this," Sam commanded. He lifted her hand, opened her palm and placed two aspirins there. "And take these. You're gonna want them, believe me." He jerked his chin at the coffee maker by the window. "And I've got coffee coming too," he added.

Kenna sniffed and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the smell of the coffee. "I don't want it, Sam."

"Too bad," he chuckled. "You don't have a choice this morning."

Kenna frowned at him but didn't try to argue, knowing it wouldn't be worth it, anyway. Sam nodded his head, silently demanding she take the pills and drink the water. Kenna chugged both items back and winced as the water burned the back of her raw throat. The quick movement made her headache even worse and her hands went up to hold her throbbing skull.

Sam turned his back on her and went to pour her a cup of coffee.

Just to get her back for making him worry the night before, Sam reached up and tugged on the nearby curtain string. The curtains opened and the room was flooded with sunlight. Kenna screamed and hit the deck, burrowing her face into the mattress in an effort to hide from the light.

Sam just grinned.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

An hour later, McKenna emerged from the bathroom, her hair still wet from the shower. She frowned, ashamed to say that Sam was right. The steamy water had made her feel a lot better.

He looked up from the pile of papers he had spread over the small table in the corner and smiled at her. "Feel a little better?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kenna answered.

She slowly made her way toward the table and placed her hands, palms down on the tabletop, showing Sam the scratches and bruises she'd found on the back of her hands while she'd been in the shower.

"Where did these come from?" she asked.

Sam frowned. "You don't remember?"

"No."

"You went to a bar, got drunk off your ass and beat the hell outta three biker dudes last night," Sam answered simply.

Kenna cocked her head at him and almost smiled. She scoffed in disbelief. "Are you serious?" she asked. "I mean, Sam, I remember going to the bar. I remember getting up and leaving."

She paused, stared at the floor in shame. "I couldn't sleep…again."

"But you don't remember beating anybody up?" Sam asked.

"No, Sam," Kenna said, trying to force a smile. "I don't, but apparently the back of my hands tell a different story, huh?"

Sam would've laughed, but he couldn't. Truth was, it just wasn't funny. Kenna was depressed, desperate, and apparently more like Dean than Sam ever wanted to admit. She had been through hell more times than he could count and she'd come out of it without relying on any vices.

Kenna had been through the loss of her family, rape, abuse, neglect, and sickness.

But loneliness…that was something new. And clearly, that was worse than everything else combined. So she'd turned to alcohol.

_Just like Dean…_

Kenna looked at Sam as if she could almost hear his thoughts and he didn't like it one bit. She jerked her chin at him and picked up a sheet of paper from the table.

"What's this?" she asked and began to scan her eyes over every line. It didn't take long for her to realize what it was. Her right eyebrow arched up and she frowned.

"Sam…" Her voice was thick and full of unspoken threats.

After seeing her beat the crap out of that biker guy the night before, Sam knew she could follow through on every one of them. Clearly, Kenna had a bad side, and he didn't want to be on the wrong end of it.

"It's a summoning ritual," he answered, quickly.

"Yeah, I see that, Sam. What's it for?"

Sam looked at the ugly carpet and pressed the toe of his boot into it. He jerked his leg back and nervously tapped his thumb against the tabletop.

"Sam," Kenna said again. "What are you wanting to summon?"

He quickly thought of the broken and bloody biker dudes and forced himself to answer. Of course, the answer itself could bring him the same fate anyway, so he was screwed either way.

"I'm gonna summon a few demons," he said, softly. "I'm wanna…try to kill Michael."

Kenna crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor. "And why do you need a few demons to that?" she asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Kenna, I killed Lilith," Sam said, but he wasn't saying it to brag. "I killed the most powerful demon ever. The first demon ever created."

"And released Satan in the process!" Kenna argued.

Sam bowed his head in shame and Kenna instantly wished she could take the words back. They were true and they both knew it, but she hadn't really meant them.

"I'm just saying that if I can kill the most powerful _demon_," Sam continued, slowly. "Then maybe I can kill the most powerful _angel_."

"No way, Sam," Kenna whispered and reached for another cup of coffee.

"You don't even know what I want to do!" he argued, passionately.

"Yes, I do," Kenna growled and without warning, reared her arm back and threw the full paper coffee cup across the room. It splattered across the back wall and the brown liquid left long smear lines trailing down the ugly wallpaper.

"You want to summon some demons, drink their blood and go running after an angel that can't be found, Sam!" she shouted. "And I won't let you do it!"

"Dean's my brother," he countered. "I can do whatever the hell I want and I don't need your permission, _McKenna_!"

Kenna froze. He hadn't called her by her full name since they'd first met. And she didn't like it one bit.

The two of them stood there in the small hotel room, chests heaving from shouting, coffee smearing down the far wall, and the echo of Kenna's full name hanging in the air between them.

Surprisingly enough, Kenna was the first to speak again. She stepped closer to Sam, reached up to touch his face or take his hand, but quickly drew back before her skin could make contact with his.

"No, Sam," she whispered, softly. "I can't let you do that."

Sam opened his mouth again, but Kenna held up a hand to silence him.

"I know your heart's in the right place, Sam," she offered. "I know you want to do it to save Dean, but I also know that he'd rather stay stuck in his own body and ride around with Michael _forever_ than have you drink demon blood again."

Sam's eyes filled up with tears and he looked up at the ceiling, hoping gravity would keep the little drops of saltwater from sliding down his cheeks. He knew what Kenna was saying was true.

He also knew that Dean loved him very much, but he hated that dark side of him even more.

Finally, Kenna reached down and squeezed Sam's hand in hers.

"We'll figure something out, Sam," she whispered, reached up and pinched his chin between her fingers, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I promise you…we'll get him back."

Sam nodded, bowed his head and pulled Kenna into a tight hug.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

After years of practice at the Compound, Kenna was an expert at faking sleep. She and Sam were each in their own beds. The TV was on and they were watching a movie. Kenna's eyes drifted closed as she slowly turned onto her side, facing away from Sam. She even reached out, placed a set of earbuds in her ears, turned on her favorite playlist and forced her breath to come in a slow, even keel.

And Sam fell for it.

Kenna waited at least a half hour before hitting the pause button on her Ipod. Once the music stopped she could hear Sam breathing, a quiet snore punctuating every other breath. She slowly turned to look at him. He was on his stomach, one arm up under his head, beneath his pillow. Five nights in a hotel room with him, and Kenna knew that it was his most comfortable sleeping position.

He was out cold. And he probably would be for the rest of the night.

Kenna slowly and silently slipped out from beneath the covers, thankful the last lingering remnants of her hangover had finally eased off. She had spent most of the day with her head in the toilet and listening to the sound of Sam's laughter, sprinkled with the words, "I told you so."

She reached for the scrunchy on the nightstand, pulled her hair back and slipped on a pair of jeans. After that, Kenna grabbed her boots and the keys to the Shelby. She took one last look at Sam and tiptoed toward the door. Her hand rested on the doorknob, twisted it and carefully pulled the door open. She slowly made her way outside, but stopped mid-step.

_Crap, I almost forgot the most important thing…_

Kenna placed her boots on the poured concrete just outside the door before slipping back into the room. Her bare feet padded across the floor as she walked to Sam's bag. She reached inside as quietly as she could and pulled out the gun she knew is at the bottom. It's already heavy with bullets and for a moment, Kenna came close to dropping it. She shoved it in her back pocket and finally left the room.

She's off to track down an angel. And she's going fully prepared.

After all, she had the Colt.

**-A bit more still coming soon. PLEASE, PLEASE review. -Leigh**


	94. Chapter 94

McKenna's eyes squinted against the bright lights of the passing motorists as she merged the Shelby onto the Interstate. Her right hand went up and shifted the rearview mirror down until she could see the thin white lines in the highway behind her.

"Sammy," she chuckled under her breath, scolding him for always forgetting to return the mirror to her position after he drove.

Kenna blinked, shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. She felt bad for leaving Sam at the hotel and for being so secretive about her actions the past few days. She was ashamed for hiding the research she'd been doing from him. Hiding the fact that she'd been tracking Michael for the past three days, simply by stealing his laptop and keeping an eye on the weather.

Tracking an angel, even one as powerful as Michael, was really no different than tracking a demon. And Kenna had been doing that since she was fifteen. She was a self-taught expert at tailing demons. Maybe even better than Sam.

_Though I'd never tell him that…_

In fact, that was her reason for leaving the night before. Kenna had planned to go to the bar just to continue her research, but when the bartender offered her a drink, she didn't say no.

And apparently, the first one was so good, I couldn't say no to a few more…

Kenna shot a sidelong glance at her cell phone resting on the passenger seat. For a moment, she thought of calling Sam and Bobby to let them know what she was doing, but Sam was probably still asleep and Bobby was probably pouring over his ancient Japanese spell books.

_Or whatever the crap that man does at one in the morning…_

The jury was still out on that one.

Kenna drove for a little over an hour until she finally reached an empty parking lot just outside the small town she'd tracked the archangel to. She climbed out from behind the wheel, hiding the Colt within the inside pocket of her jacket. She made her way around to the front of the Shelby and leaned back against the hood. Then, she finally reached for her cell phone.

"Cas?" she questioned, softly. "It's me."

Kenna went on to tell him her location and like always, she didn't have to wait long. A gust of wind and the quick flapping of wings signaled the angel's arrival. She heard him step closer, rounding the front of the Shelby and leaning against the hood next to her.

"You shouldn't be here, McKenna," he scolded gently.

Kenna crossed her arms over her chest and almost smiled. "I know," she agreed. "But I had to come."

Kenna tilted her head back to stare up at the stars, overhead. She and Sam had gone outside two nights ago in an attempt to see the stars, but the epic storm clouds and constant smoke from the nearby fires had blocked their view. In fact, the sky hadn't begun to really clear up until earlier that morning.

A slow, bittersweet thought suddenly entered Kenna's head.

"Were you there when all of those were created, Cas?" she asked, softly.

The angel shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his trench coat and the corner of his lips curled up for a fraction of a second. Kenna's expression quickly changed to match his.

"I was there," Castiel answered, nodding. "But I don't remember it very much."

Kenna shot a questioning glance at him.

"It was a very long time ago and over time, some angels forget things," he explained. "Especially those of us who…choose to fall."

Kenna frowned. "You haven't fallen, Cas," she offered. "In fact, you're the only angel I've met so far that's actually doing what's _right_. And if that's what makes you fall…" She paused and shrugged. "Then you're making the right choice."

Castiel lifted his gaze and stared at her for a moment. Kenna bit her bottom lip and shrugged at him again. "To me, you are, at least."

The angel looked at her and tried to manage the closest thing to a smile he could muster. It wasn't the best, but Kenna was happy to see it, just the same.

"As I said before, you shouldn't be here," Castiel said, glancing at her with a questioning stare. "Also…what am _I_ doing here?"

Kenna almost smiled again and took another glance at the stars, up above.

"I tracked Michael to this town," she said, almost gushing with pride. "But I need you to lead me to his exact location here."

Castiel's gaze shifted to the pavement beneath their feet as he nervously crossed one ankle over the other. "Does Sam know you're here?" he asked. "Or Bobby?"

Kenna shook her head. "No," she answered and held up a hand to silence the angel when she saw him open his mouth. "And that's the way it has to stay."

Cas closed his lips and his hands fisted within his pockets. "And just what do you plan to do if I decide to lead you to him?"

Kenna shrugged and pushed her hands into her own pockets. "I'm…not really sure yet."

"You don't have a plan?"

"I'm kind of winging it," she said, softly. "For now I…I just want to talk to him." Kenna was only half lying, but she just couldn't tell Castiel the truth. Not just yet, anyway.

Castiel frowned. "He's not Dean, McKenna," he said, softly.

"I know that," she agreed, wistfully. "But I know he's in there. I've…seen him."

Castiel let out a heavy sigh and looked up at Kenna. "I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

She glanced up at him, and for the first time, noticed how truly human the angel was beginning to appear. Each time Kenna saw him, Castiel was gaining more signs of compassion, trust, and dare she say it, humanity.

"I have to do this," she said, pushing her weight off the hood to stand in front of Castiel. "Please, Cas," she begged. "I _know_ you can feel him."

The angel pursed his lips together, wanting to deny overwhelming sensations he was feeling of his brother's presence. McKenna was right and he knew it. He could feel Michael. And he was very close by.

"Just tell me where he is, Cas," Kenna pleaded, and reached up to touch his arm. "Then, you can leave. Please, I'm not even asking you to stay."

The angel didn't say anything for a very long time, but eventually, he lifted his head and looked deep, into her eyes.

"You have one hour," he said, softly.

With that, Castiel lifted his hand, holding up his first two fingers and pressed them to Kenna's forehead.

**-Sorry it's so short, but there's a bit more coming soon. PLEASE review. All my love. -Leigh**


	95. Chapter 95

The flash of white light was as blinding as it always was and McKenna squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh glare. For about two seconds, she always heard what could only be classified as a mixture of thunder, lightening, and some sort of whispers. She recognized some of them as Latin, a bit of them as Italian…and something else she couldn't quite understand.

She always wondered what the words meant and who was saying them. Maybe they were the quiet prayers of humans. Or maybe they were the whispers of the angels. The sound was always accompanied by a feeling of quick descent, as though she'd just jumped from a cliff and was free falling without a parachute, hurtling down at a million miles an hour.

When she hit the ground, the air was always knocked from her lungs and Kenna faltered on her feet. Her knees bent to help her from falling over, while her arms went out to steady her torso. Both hands smacked into a hard surface, sending shooting pain up, past her elbows and into her shoulders. Kenna opened her eyes and was met with nothing but darkness. She flattened her palms against the hard surface and ran them up the sides, feeling the smooth edges of what felt like paneled wood walls.

It was a small space, a tiny, dark space.

And Kenna didn't like it at all.

"Hello?" she whispered. "Hel—" She immediately reached up and clamped both hands over her mouth. It was after one in the morning. She was in a tiny, black room and didn't have a clue as to where it was, or who might be there with her. Kenna should've known better than to even open her mouth, much less actually utter the word 'hello'.

Kenna slid her palms against the walls, counting the corners as she went. There were four of them and within the tiny room was an overwhelming scent of age. In fact, the aroma was familiar, reminding Kenna of an old house or antique store or…

_An old Bed and Breakfast…_

Kenna lifted her arms in the air, swept them back and forth until her hands collided with a hanging string. She clapped her palms together to still the swaying string and gave it a gentle tug. Kenna blinked and squinted her eyes when a bare bulb on the ceiling came to life.

She was in a closet. One that was almost empty except for a few brooms and a dustpan she was surprised she hadn't tripped on. She saw the door, reached her hand out and grasped the old, glass doorknob. It squeaked loudly when she turned it, and the hinges of the door, itself cried out as well.

Kenna slowly pushed the door open and stepped out into a long, dark hallway, illuminated only by the light from the closet. The slim corridor was filled with doors and they each had numbers on them. She carefully made her way to the end of the hallway and peeked over the nearby railing to gaze at the foyer down below. A large front desk, complete with sign-in book and an antique bell stared up at her, proving her earlier theory had been right on the money.

She was in a Bed and Breakfast. And if she had a flashlight to shine on the front of the sign-in book, she'd probably learn the name of it, too.

But there simply wasn't time for that now.

Castiel had given her an hour and he'd beamed Kenna here for one reason, and one reason only. Michael was here. She just couldn't possibly understand why, though.

Or how on earth Castiel had managed to shove her inside the closet.

Maybe he was telling the truth about his angel mojo being off. Maybe he'd just overshot and accidentally zapped her to the wrong room. With that in mind, Kenna quietly retreated to her original landing spot and checked the rooms surrounding the closet. The two on the right and left side of the door were empty, but the one across the hall…

Held an archangel.

Michael was lying on a large four-poster bed, his face illuminated by the bright glow from the nearby TV set. He was on his back, legs stretched in front of him, ankles neatly crossed. His eyes were closed, chin slumped forward, resting on his chest, and his arms were crossed over his heart.

Kenna blinked and for just a moment, no one in the entire world could have told her that the man in front of her _wasn't_ Dean Winchester. He was in his skin, wearing his clothes and sleeping in the position Dean often nodded off in. He looked almost…peaceful.

Before she could stop it, Kenna felt her feet take a few steps forward. Even without her consciously willing it to, her body wanted to go to him, be near him.

_Curl up and go to sleep alongside of him…_

She closed her eyes, shook her head and forced the thought out of her head. This wasn't Dean. This wasn't the man who had pulled her up from the dark pit that had once been her life. This wasn't the man who had showed her what it meant to be a true friend and taught her how to trust. This wasn't the man who had returned to her the innocence she'd lost so many years ago.

And this wasn't the man she'd fallen so desperately in love with.

This was an archangel gone darkside. And he needed to die.

_Now…_

"I thought angels didn't sleep," Kenna said, her voice just one notch up from that of a whisper.

The right corner of Michael's lips instantly curled up, but the rest of his body made no movements whatsoever.

"I don't sleep," he rasped. "But my vessel does."

The angel finally opened his ice blue eyes and slowly lifted his head to gaze at Kenna. The other corner of his lips turned up in a full smirk, an expression that would normally send Kenna into a fit of blushing, girlish giggles, but this time it only sent a ripple of sickening chills careening up her spine.

"So, how did you find me, McKenna?" Michael asked.

"It wasn't too hard," she boasted, softly. "I just tracked the weather and kept an eye on a few of your other 'natural' disasters and they led me right to you."

His brow arched. "Are you sure you didn't have any other help?"

Kenna gulped. She wondered if he knew about Castiel.

"It was just me," she lied, and hoped it proved successful. "I didn't have any other help." Then, just to irk him further, she gave him an innocent shrug and a smirk of her own. "I guess I'm just _that_ good."

Thankfully, the angel seemed to accept it, but he moved onto a subject that Kenna quickly wished he hadn't.

"So…what do you think of my accommodations?" he asked, uncrossing his arms and spreading them out, silently gesturing to the surrounding room. "The décor isn't exactly my style, or Dean's, if I imagine, but…then again, I don't think he wanted to stay here because _he_ liked it."

Kenna's jaw tightened and she sucked in a sharp breath. "_Dean_ wanted to stay here?" she asked. "Why?"

The angel shrugged and frowned, smugly. "I don't know. He was moaning and groaning about it reminding him of you."

"You sick son of a…" Kenna lunged forward, arms outstretched and read to strangle him with her bare hands, but the angel held up a hand and stayed her with that simple movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, McKenna," he warned. "One wrong move and I'll obliterate every living thing in this state. And that includes Bobby and your precious Sammy."

Kenna immediately shrunk back and lowered her clawing hands. Michael had her over a barrel and she couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have possessed her to come here in the first place.

She'd passed at least four crossroads on the way here and at each one she'd thought of stopping by to see if anyone was interested in making a deal. But each exit quickly came and went as she flew down the Interstate, even as her hands tightened on the wheel and wanted to pull over.

At one point, she actually had, too. But it wasn't to make a deal. It was only to give herself enough time to catch her breath, wipe the tears from her eyes and lean out the driver's side window of the Shelby to throw up.

But it hadn't made one bit of difference. She was still nervous.

_And scared as hell…_

Before Kenna knew what hit her, she felt a stream of hot tears sliding down her cheeks. She closed her eyes in an effort to stop them, but they squeezed past her lashes and continued to fall.

"McKenna…" Michael whispered, his arrogant demeanor instantly transformed, his tone suddenly compassionate, husky and sounding so much like Dean's. He began to rise up from the bed, clearly planning to come to her, but Kenna held up a hand and took a few steps back.

"Please give him back to me," she begged, pitifully. "Please. If you have _any_ care or compassion in you at all, _please_ just give him back to me."

Michael didn't utter a word and for a long time, the room was silent except for Kenna's quiet sobs.

"Please," she said again. "Please. I'll even go out and get you another vessel. Whatever you want…"

Kenna lifted her right hand, clenched it into a fist and pressed it her forehead. She could actually hear herself begging to Michael. She could even hear herself offer to kidnap and bring him another vessel, subject an innocent man to being ridden by an archangel and help destroy the world. She heard it and couldn't believe she'd actually said it, but even then…she just didn't care.

_That's how badly I want Dean back…_

"McKenna," Michael said again, and this time he managed to reach up and rest his hand on her shoulder. "I told you once before that I feel as though you've been through enough. The pain you suffered as a child…" His sentence tapered off as he dropped his head forward in shame. "No one deserves what happened to you. And you don't deserve what's happening to you now."

Kenna jerked away from the angel's grasp and glared up at him. "Then make it stop," she hissed. "Bring Dean back!"

Michael frowned, his lips turning down to something that was almost a pout. He looked at her and for a moment Kenna knew he wasn't lying about the sorrow he felt for her.

"Believe it or not, this was the real reason why I ignored your cries for a savior, McKenna," he began, slowly. "This was why I never allowed any of my angels to save you from the Compound. It wasn't to stop you from performing the ritual. It was to stop you from meeting the Winchester brothers. To stop you from falling in love with Dean. To stop you from seeing me inside of him and…to stop you from feeling even more heartache."

Kenna bowed her head forward as another rush of tears built up behind her eyelids. She blinked once, twice, again, and unashamedly let them fall. She slowly lifted her gaze and looked up at the angel.

His eyes were a dazzling emerald green.

The angel was lying to her. It was a pretty freakin' good lie, Kenna had to give him that, but it was a lie nonetheless. And now he'd changed his eye color into a perfect match for Dean's, just to try to trick her further.

And Kenna had had just about enough. She closed her eyes and remembered Dean's words…

"_This is what I want you to do if the ritual goes south. If anything goes wrong, you pull your gun out, you aim right here, and you pull the trigger."_

Dean had held her Ruger right over his heart and told her to shoot him. He'd wanted her to promise that she would do that for him if he was unable to separate himself from Michael, but at the time, Kenna could make no such promise. But now, after seeing Michael and learning that Dean was still in there, feeling pain and desperately missing her and Sam…

Kenna had to keep the unsaid promise she hadn't had the strength to before.

Before Michael even knew what happened, he found himself staring down the barrel of the Colt. His eyes grew wide with surprise for a moment and his body seized up on a sharp inhale, but he quickly relaxed again and regained his usual arrogant composure.

Kenna's right hand was trembling, mirroring the movement of her chin, as she aimed the Colt at him, finger poised against the trigger. She watched the angel's eyes turn back to their original ice blue color and she shifted her aim to the center of his chest.

"McKenna," Michael whispered, his tone quiet and kind again. "I know that gun is very powerful and can kill almost anything…but it can't kill me."

"I know," Kenna said, gritting her teeth. "I'm not killing _you_."

The angel frowned quizzically and cocked his head to the side. His expression was almost innocent, almost cute, and clearly genuine, but Kenna refused to let it faze her.

"You want to kill Dean," Michael said, and it wasn't a question. "To put him out of his misery."

Kenna nodded and a new tidal wave of tears slowly streamed down her cheeks. "If he can't be completely Dean, if he can't be just him with his family…"

"I see," the angel said, interrupting her. "If _you_ can't have him…_I_ can't have him."

Kenna had never planned to put it in those words, but yes, that was exactly it. If Kenna couldn't have Dean…nobody could.

"But why the Colt?" Michael questioned. "Any gun would have the same effect. Why not use one of your own weapons?"

Kenna shrugged. "Dean loves this gun. It's the last connection he has to his father. And it's always connected him to Sam, and Bobby too, probably. So anything less than the Colt would be an insult."

"So killing him with the almighty Colt is your last gift to him?" the angel asked.

Kenna nodded and lifted her shoulders in another sad shrug. "I never had much to offer him in the first place, but he took me as I was anyway…so, yeah…this is all I've got left."

Kenna tried to smile, but just couldn't manage it. "I'm literally killing two birds with one stone. You're no good without him as your vessel and this _was_ his dying wish…"

Michael looked down and stared at the gun, watching as Kenna cocked it, pulling back the hammer with her thumb. The revolver rotated and prepared itself to release a bullet. She gazed up at him…and paused.

Kenna's tongue peeked out from between her dry, parted lips and nervously licked them. She tasted the salt of her tears mixing with the sour taste of bile in the back of her throat. The freezing cold metal of the gun nearly burned her hand and she wanted nothing more than to shove it back into her coat pocket and flee.

Her finger tightened around the trigger and began to squeeze…

She made the mistake of glancing at his face one last time and saw a quick flash of green appear in his eyes.

Kenna gritted her teeth and groaned. Then, she tilted her head back and a raw, desperate cry tore from her throat, escaping from the deep recesses of her soul. She collapsed to her knees, taking the gun with her.

She couldn't do it. Even now, knowing she was going against everything Dean ever wanted…she just couldn't do it.

He was still in there. And he was her best friend, her partner, the one and only love of her life. And because of that, Kenna couldn't kill him.

"I'm sorry, McKenna," she heard Michael whisper, and a part of her sensed that he actually meant it.

Loud, harrowing sobs wracked her whole body as Kenna lay there on the hardwood floor of a Bed and Breakfast she still couldn't name. A dark archangel in Dean's body stood over her, silent, strong, and nothing short of absolute evil.

Suddenly, Kenna heard a flap of wings, sensed someone kneel down beside her, and felt them gently touch her forehead. She was enveloped in a white-hot flash of light, which would probably take her back to the Shelby.

But this time, she just wished it would take her to meet death.

**-It might be another few days before I get the next chapter up, so please REVIEW and let me know what you think. **

**Believe it or not...this story WILL have a happy ending. :) Lots of love, Leigh**


	96. Chapter 96

McKenna wasn't sure how long she stayed there in the parking lot, sobbing on her knees. But at least she wasn't alone. Castiel stood by her side, leaning against the Shelby as Kenna sobbed her heart out. She could almost feel the angel's discomfort, like a living, breathing thing, but he still managed to put it aside, and even reached down to run his fingers through her hair. It didn't bring her much comfort, but it helped her feel a little less alone.

"I couldn't do it, Cas," Kenna hiccupped, as she finally looked up at him. "I just couldn't do it."

The angel nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. "I know."

"Even though I knew it was what Dean wanted," she gasped. "I still couldn't do it."

"It's because you have faith," Castiel offered. "Because you have faith that Dean will come back."

Kenna scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "I want to have faith," she argued. "I _want_ to. You know that. But now…" Her sentence tapered off and she lifted her shoulders in a hopeless shrug.

"You still have your faith, McKenna," Castiel said, and offered her his hand. Kenna took it and he pulled her to her feet. For a moment, she wanted to fight him. She wasn't ready to stand up yet. She didn't want to. Truth was, Kenna wanted to stay in the parking lot, on her knees, wallowing in self-pity.

_But that's not what Dean would want for me…_

Kenna shoved the Colt back into the inside pocket of her jacket, lifted her arms and speared her fingers through her hair. She looked up at the starry sky for a moment, and then glanced at Castiel. Her expression was the picture of a lost and hopeless little girl. "What do I do now, Cas?"

The angel almost smiled as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. He tipped his chin up and gazed at the stars. He couldn't help but wish he could still remember the day they'd been created. Eventually, Cas shifted his gaze to look at Kenna. Clearly, she had no idea how loaded her simple question was.

He had no idea what she should do. He had no rituals, no heavenly charms or sigils to offer her. Nothing that could bring Dean back. But after being his guardian angel for almost two years and seeing him and his brother through some of the darkest times they'd ever experience, Castiel at least had a clue as to what Dean would _want_ her to do.

"Live, McKenna," the angel finally answered. "You live. Try to be happy. Be a friend to Sam and Bobby…_live_."

"You mean forget," Kenna argued. "Forget and move on."

"No," Castiel growled. "Not move on. Just…" He paused and seemed to think of a better description. "Just bide your time."

Kenna looked at Cas and rolled her eyes at him for the second time that night, placed her hands on her hips and turned her back on him.

"Eventually, Michael's destruction will end," Cas offered. "And his need for Dean as his vessel will cease. He'll come back to you. And you can be together again."

Kenna turned back to face him and tried not to laugh at the irony. "Together," she sneered, repeating the word. "Right…because the world will be such a wonderful place by then."

Castiel almost smiled at her. She and Dean had the same sarcastic sense of humor, and while he hadn't understood it at first, the angel had slowly come to find it somewhat comforting, and dare he say, almost funny. But now wasn't the time for humor. If he couldn't save Dean from Michael, than the least he could do was take care of McKenna for him.

And the best way of doing that was to send her back home.

"The sun will be rising soon, McKenna," Castiel noted, sternly, with a nod to the horizon. "Sam will worry if he wakes up and finds you gone. I suggest you be on your way."

"I don't care if Sam worries," Kenna said, and almost wished she meant it. "I'll go when I'm good and—"

"_Go_," Castiel growled, suddenly. "_Now_."

Kenna met his blue eyes and what she saw there almost scared her. Castiel was clearly angry with her and wanted her gone, but she also saw some of the same fear in him that she was currently feeling in herself.

And it scared the living crap out of her.

Kenna reached up and tried to touch him, wondering if he needed some comfort just as badly as she did. "Cas, I'm—"

"Go," he said again, though thankfully, his tone had gentled.

Kenna frowned, pulled her hand back and slowly climbed into the Shelby. She reached out from behind the wheel to pull the door shut and glanced back to take one last look at Castiel…

But the angel was already gone.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna snuck back into the motel room as quietly as she could and couldn't help but notice that Sam wasn't nearly as good at faking sleep as she was. The corner of her lips curled up as she watched him snort, frown, and turn over onto his side, all the while trying to keep his breathing at a slow, even pace.

An amateur would've found it acceptable, but Kenna knew better. Though, she stopped at the side of his bed and mentally applauded his effort. She had to give Sam some points for trying. And she gave him even more for not waking up to yell at her for leaving again.

_I have it coming, too. I really do…_

But seconds went by and Sam didn't wake up from his fake coma. Satisfied that he was going to keep his mouth shut for now, Kenna decided to slip out of her jeans and back into bed. If she were lucky, she'd get a good hour, maybe two of some very much-needed sleep.

But as she closed her eyes, Kenna could still hear Castiel's words in her head.

"_Just bide your time. Eventually, Michael's destruction will end. And his need for Dean as his vessel will cease. He'll come back to you. And you can be together again."_

Kenna slowly drifted off with the angel's promising words still swimming in her head, and she dreamed of what it would be like if they were really true.

One day, Dean would surprise her with a diamond ring on her left finger. It would be something small and understated, possibly an antique. They would be married in a tiny, very personal ceremony, hopefully in an old, empty church. Sam would stand up for Dean and Bobby would literally _walk_ Kenna down the aisle.

Somehow, Dean would buy Kenna her dream home, a white farmhouse with dark green shutters, despite the fact that he knew they couldn't really afford it.

Michael and Lucifer would be dead and long since forgotten, but as long as the earth had people living on it, there would still be evil, and therefore, there would still be hunters. So, Kenna and Dean would occasionally go on a hunt, not because they needed to, but simply because they wanted to. Because saving people and hunting things was in their blood, and they just couldn't live without it.

Their life would be complete with just the two of them for a while, but eventually, they would start to feel as though something was missing.

One day, Dean would run a calloused hand over Kenna's stomach, smile wickedly, and jerk his chin toward their bedroom. Even as she slept, Kenna could almost feel his lips against her temple as he whispered, "Come on, babe. Let's go make one outta two."

Dean would be a doting father, long before the baby was even born. He would roll over in the middle of the night and cup his palm over Kenna's ever-growing belly, just to make sure his wife and child were still there. He would lean down, place his lips against her stomach, and tell their child how much he loved it, how he'd always dreamed about it, and would never leave its side.

They would have a girl, simply because Kenna couldn't imagine having anything else. Though, she would smile and tell Dean they'd just keep trying until they had a boy as well. Like Sam had said, he would be the world's greatest uncle, and Bobby would instantly fall in love with his role as a grandfather.

Kenna and Dean would have what they both had always wanted.

_A family…_

And like in every perfect dream, they would live happily ever after.

Kenna smiled in her sleep and rolled over, wishing the beautiful dream would never come to an end. But even more than that, she wished it would actually come true.

**-The 'morning after' next. Please REVIEW...Thank you. -Leigh**


	97. Chapter 97

Sam unlocked the motel room door and quietly eased his way inside, careful not to wake McKenna. She had still been asleep when he'd left to get coffee twenty minutes earlier, and after her second night out on the town, he figured she'd need the sleep. But, when he opened the door, he found her sitting up in bed, reading a book.

"Hey, you're up," he said, offering her a smile and a cup of coffee. "What are you reading?"

Kenna placed her hand within the tissue-thin pages to mark her place before flipping the soft leather book closed, allowing Sam to see the cover. "My Bible," she answered.

Sam's brow arched in question, while a small smile tugged at his lips. "Research?" he asked.

"Nope," Kenna said, smiling, herself. "Just reading it. There's some good stuff in here, you know, Sam."

He smiled sadly and reached out to reverently run his fingertips over the old, leather cover. "I know," he agreed. "I used to read it all the time."

Sam sipped at his own coffee and sat down on the bed next to Kenna. His eyes bounced from her, to the Bible, and to her again before finally settling on neither. He gazed toward the window and took another sip from his cup.

"I used to pray, too," he whispered. "Everyday."

"Why'd you stop?" Kenna questioned.

Sam reached down, slid his shaky fingers around the edges of the cup's lid and still refused to look at her. "I don't know," he shrugged. "Life got in the way, I guess. Bad things happened…Dean went to hell."

He finally looked up at Kenna, gauging her reaction at the sound of his brother's name. For a split second, Sam thought she might've flinched, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Depending on how you look at it, I went to hell, too," Sam scoffed, not quite believing the words, himself.

"Yeah, you did, Sam" Kenna agreed. "You watched you brother be torn to shreds by hellhounds, you buried him in the ground, and lived without him for four months…" She paused for a moment, making sure Sam was actually paying attention to her. "Yes, Sam. That's hell."

Sam nodded, silently thanking Kenna for her understanding. His lips parted, but he didn't get a chance to say anything more.

"Well, I think you should start reading it again," Kenna said and placed the Bible in Sam's lap as she pushed the covers aside and rose to her feet. "I also think we should start praying together. And while we're at it, let's find a church to go to, too."

Sam was a little dumbfounded at the thought of regularly attending a church, but deep down, he didn't really have a problem with the idea. Actually, it was just another tiny piece of 'normal' he'd secretly always wanted, but had never told Dean about.

Sam knew Dean would've gone just to make him happy, but they would've had to sit in the very back row and Sam would've been forced to listen to Dean giggle about the preacher's obvious toupee or his very apparent lisp.

_But, even that experience would've been worth it, just for the memory, alone…_

Sam smiled at the bittersweet thought, but at the moment, there was something else on his mind. He jerked his chin at Kenna. "First, you mind telling me where you went last night?"

Kenna's hands froze in mid-air, and she even dropped one of Sam's t-shirts on the floor. She'd prepared herself for this. She knew that Sam had been awake when she'd returned early this morning, but despite that, the question still caught her off guard.

Plus, she refused to lie to him anymore.

_And he's Sam. He's all I've got left…_

"I uh…" Kenna stammered. "I went to go see Michael."

Sam said nothing, but a small smile peeked out from behind his coffee cup as he took another sip.

"You're not going to yell at me?" Kenna asked. "You're not surprised?"

"The only thing I'm surprised about is that it took you so long to find him," Sam answered quickly. "You're the best tracker I know, Kenna, so I figured you'd find him a little faster than that."

She almost smiled as she spoke, but couldn't quite manage it yet. "Sorry, but I was in pretty bad shape those first few days."

"I know," Sam mumbled, remembering her days long, near catatonic state followed by the all night drinking binge. Not that he would ever judge her for that, though. He had turned to drinking while Dean was in hell, too. But, he sidestepped the leftover emotion and quickly felt the usual protective urge he often felt for Kenna.

"So, are you all right?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Kenna said as she finally turned to face Sam, her expression one of absolute self-loathing. "I'm sorry, Sammy," she whispered. "I didn't mean to hide it from you, but I had to go see him."

Sam already knew the answer, but he asked the question, anyway. "Why?"

"Because I was going to kill him."

Sam didn't balk, didn't even squirm. In fact, he didn't say one word. Instead he simply nodded and took another sip of his coffee.

"I couldn't do it, though," Kenna continued. "I looked right into those cold, ice blue eyes, but all I could see was Dean…so, I couldn't do it. And I came back here."

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and held his cup between his hands. "Dean would've wanted you to kill him, Kenna," he whispered.

She dropped her head forward in shame. Of course, Sam would know that. He knew Dean better than anyone.

_Even better than me…_

He knew that Dean would rather be dead than be ridden around by a big bad archangel. But even knowing that, Kenna couldn't force herself to pull that trigger.

"We talked about it," Kenna began. "Before the ritual. He told me he wanted me to kill him if he couldn't separate himself from Michael…but I'm sorry, Sam, I just couldn't do it."

Sam wasn't mad. In fact, he almost smiled as he set his coffee cup down on the nightstand next to him. He stood to his feet and gently pulled her stiff body into his arms, noting how she didn't loosen up with him the way she did with Dean.

"It's okay, Kenna," he whispered. "I wouldn't have been able to do it, either."

**-Only 3 chapters remaining...Please review. -Leigh**


	98. Chapter 98

"You going somewhere?"

Sam's question went unanswered as he watched McKenna pack their clothes into the bag they'd been sharing for the past week. Her hair was hanging heavy and still dripping wet from her shower and little drips cascaded down her long blonde strands, landing in tiny puddles on the floor.

At one point, Kenna was brushing her damp hair, folding clothes, and slipping on a pair of earrings all at the same time. She was doing too many things at once and it made Sam dizzy just watching her.

"Kenna," he called.

She shook out one of his shirts and placed it in the duffel bag.

"Kenna," he said again.

She pulled on a pair of socks and reached for her boots.

"Kenna!"

Finally, that got her attention.

Kenna lifted her head and gazed up at Sam, her eyes wide with surprise, signifying that she really hadn't heard him before. "What?"

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Sam asked, his arms outstretched and shoulders shrugged high in silent question.

"Packing," Kenna said, simply, and pulled on a boot.

"And…?" Sam questioned further. "Where are we going?"

Kenna pulled on her second boot and stood to her feet. "Back to Bobby's."

She spoke the words as though Sam should've already known that. As though he should have been able to step into her head, unlock the door to her brain, and just step inside to read whatever was written on the walls, there. But despite Sam's past psychic tendencies, he couldn't do that.

But he didn't need any psychic powers to know why she wanted to go back to Bobby's. Those were words he could hear as clear as a bell, because they were in his own head, as well as Kenna's.

_If Dean gets out and tries to find us, Bobby's is the first place he'd look…_

"Kenna, the last time I talked to Bobby, he told me to stay here," Sam said, trying to be the voice of reason. "Some of the Interstates are still closed and it'd probably be better if we just stayed put."

Kenna smiled. The expression was nothing more than a silent scold, maybe even going so far as to calling him a moron in the nicest way possible.

"Sammy," Kenna scoffed. "Since when do we ever take the Interstate?"

Sam shrugged. She was right. Very rarely did they ever take the Interstate or any other major highways. They usually stuck to the back roads, most of them two lane all the way. And if Sam could sit down for twenty minutes with a map, he'd probably be able to find a nice back road all the way to Bobby's.

"Come on, Sam," Kenna begged, as she swiped the brush through her hair again. "It's the closest thing to home either one of us have ever known. And I hate the idea of Bobby being by himself with all this crap going on out there."

Sam frowned, rolled his eyes, and tried his best to ignore her. It was safe where they were. So far nothing Michael was doing had touched them. But, Kenna was right.

Again.

True, Bobby's house was nothing more than an overgrown junkyard and scrap heap, but still…it was home.

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head forward. It wasn't long until he felt the mattress press down beside him and the wet heat of Kenna's hair resting against his shoulder.

"Please?" she whispered.

Sam frowned and let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't look at her. Wouldn't even dare. Dean had once told Sam that Kenna's puppy dog eyes were even worse than his. He shot a quick sidelong glance at her.

_And dammit, if he wasn't right... _

"Kenna…" Sam groaned.

"You hate this motel room, Sam," Kenna offered. "I know you do. And living with me can't be easy, even on a good day, never mind how I've been acting since Dean…" The end of her sentence never came, and Sam finally lifted his head to really look at her.

Her puppy dog eyes were gone, replaced by wet, half-lidded ones that carried all the pain in the world within them. Kenna's heart had been breaking right before Sam's eyes for the past week, but she had never really voiced how she felt about it. Instead, she'd hidden it behind her drinking, lack of sleep, and depression. She'd tried to stay strong, tried to mask her pain with a layer of false toughness, but Sam had seen bits and pieces of it peek through.

But today, right now, was the first time he'd really seen all of it and faced it, head on.

The McKenna Stevenson before him right now was a completely different person compared to who she'd been when Sam and Dean had first met her. She had been tough, hard, and almost downright badass. She had been quiet, full of secrets, but deep down, nothing more than a scared little girl.

Sam could easily remember a time when she couldn't even handle an accidental touch. Now she couldn't go a whole day without leaning against him at some point to silently ask for a hug. And since Dean wasn't here to give them to her, it was all up to Sam. And he was only too happy to oblige.

The once cold, hard, demon-tracking Kenna was gone forever.

_Hopefully never to be heard from again…_

"Hey," Sam whispered, reaching over and placing a comforting hand over Kenna's trembling knee. For just a moment, she jumped, but Sam ignored it. "All right, we'll do it your way. We'll head back to Bobby's."

A small smile curled at Kenna's lips as she rested her hand over his. "Thanks, Sammy."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

They didn't reach Bobby's until dark, and Kenna wasn't at all surprised to find him sitting on the front porch.

_Waiting for his kids to come home…_

Bobby wheeled himself down the ramp while Kenna dive-bombed out of the passenger door, all before Sam even had the chance to let the Shelby come to a stop. Sam couldn't help but smile as he watched Kenna fly into Bobby's arms, nearly knocking him down, wheel chair and all. He turned his head, silently offering them a moment of privacy and noticed the backyard.

Bobby had removed the giant, pine logs from the Enochian sigils they'd made, but he'd been right. It looked like a bomb had been dropped in the center of his yard. The grass was completely singed and the only thing left was a huge, dark crater. Sam's head dropped forward in shame at the thought of how all this had happened.

"Sam?"

At the sound of his name, Sam turned his head and tried to smile. Bobby wheeled himself closer and stretched out his right hand. Sam took it and was immediately jerked down into a tight, bear hug.

"I missed ya, boy," Bobby whispered, his words muffled against Sam's neck. For a moment, Sam wondered if the older man was fighting back tears.

Sam lifted his head and found Kenna standing at the edge of the crater in the backyard, staring down into the small pit, below. Through the darkness, he could see long lines of tears reflecting in the moonlight on her cheeks.

Their small family didn't start or end with blood, but at least they were together.

Sam frowned and clenched his fists at his sides, as he made his way across the driveway to join Kenna in mourning for Dean.

They were together, yes.

But they were far from complete.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam and McKenna stayed at Bobby's for six weeks, reluctantly following Castiel's advice by simply biding their time. The trio spent most of their time glued to the TV, watching news coverage of the ongoing Apocalypse. And it didn't take long for the news anchors to actually start using the word, itself.

The war in Iraq escalated, while every ally the United States had ever had turned their backs and ran. A few more tsunamis had struck the shores, overseas, while hurricanes pummeled the southern coastal states. Earthquakes shook up every corner of the world, leaving no piece of land untouched.

Except for one.

"Why is nothing happening here?" Kenna asked, softly as she sat in the living room with Sam and Bobby.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Bobby offered. "Maybe it's…Dean. Maybe it's his way of lookin' out for us."

The trio shared a long, poignant gaze, each of them wanting to believe it was true.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Kenna began to attend the church down the road right away, and surprisingly enough, Bobby eventually joined her, though he hadn't been an easy sell on it at first.

"You should come with me, Bobby," Kenna said. "I think you'll like it."

"What makes you say that?" the older man grunted.

"Well…" Kenna shrugged, tried to think of a good reason, and finally tapped the arm of his wheelchair with her fingertips. "They have a ramp."

Bobby managed a small smile and something almost akin to chuckle, and agreed to go the next day.

But despite his initial desire to go, Sam struggled with the idea for the first few Sundays.

"Kenna, if the people in those pews had any idea who I am or what I've done—" A pair of slim fingers came up and covered Sam's lips, silencing any further words from them.

"You're not going for them," Kenna offered. "You're going for you."

Sam almost smiled and waited for her to walk away.

"And for Dean…" he whispered.

The first Sunday Sam finally followed Kenna into the church, most people mistook them for a couple, and just for their own personal amusement, they didn't bother to correct them. They both needed something to chuckle about later, and for now, that was all they had.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

"So, where you headed?"

The familiar voice caught McKenna completely off guard. She had been by herself, sitting on the porch swing for over an hour, reading what should have been the last few paragraphs of Job. Her fingertips slid over verse ten, which said that the Lord gave Job back everything he'd lost and multiplied it by ten.

It was quite a guarantee, and Kenna couldn't help but wonder if God still gave back every single thing that a person could possibly lose.

Finally, she forced herself to pull her nose out of the Book and gazed up at the tall man blocking the sun's gentle rays.

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Kenna," he said and shifted his weight to lean back against the porch railing behind him. "I've been watching the news the past few days, too, and I know you've seen what's happening."

Kenna almost smiled. "You mean what's _not_ happening," she said. "Things have been calm for the last three days, Sam. No more earthquakes, no more storms, no more anything. It's been almost silent."

Sam frowned. "That doesn't mean anything."

"But it could," Kenna argued.

Sam closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "So that's it?" he groaned. "You think just because things are a little quiet right now, that Dean's somehow miraculously broken free from Michael?"

Kenna closed her Bible and pursed her lips in obvious offense. The old McKenna would've killed a man for using that tone with her, but now…

_Now I'm different…_

"Well, the last time I checked, people are still _dying_, Kenna," Sam continued. "With or without any new disasters. They're still homeless and starving. The waters are still receding from the floods and there's still a few aftershocks from the earthquakes every now and then."

Sam saw Kenna's chin tremble and he finally managed to ease up a bit. He slowly made his way to the swing and sat down next to her. He slid the Bible from her hands and took it into his own.

Kenna lifted her head and gazed down the driveway, a tiny part of her hoping she'd see the love of her life round the corner and come running into her arms.

"Kenna," he said, slowly. "If Dean really had gotten out, don't you think he'd be here by now?"

But, she'd already thought of that, and clearly, so had Sam. Otherwise, he never would've asked her what he had earlier. Even though she'd promised she'd stay, Kenna was obviously in the mood to run again.

But, at least this time she had good intentions.

At least this time she knew who she was looking for.

"So, like I said," Sam muttered. "Where you headed?"

**-2 to go...please review. -Leigh**


	99. Chapter 99

Dean slammed his fist against the cold, hard wall in front of him, and screamed until his throat went numb. The archangel could hear him, and Dean knew it. He also knew that he was starting to slow down.

_Though I don't understand how…_

Dean finally gave up, sat down, and shivered as he sat in the chilly, dimly lit, empty room of his mind. He couldn't help but think of the overly elaborate room Zechariah had once placed him in. A 'green room', he'd called it. Used for Dean to wait until he would be of use to the angels again. He had been forced to wait there until Sam was ready to kill Lilith.

_Yeah, and a lot of good that did…_

Lilith had been the last seal and once she was dead the Apocolypse was officially underway. And that's what had started all this. That day had brought Dean to this one.

And he didn't like this day one bit.

Dean remembered most of what Michael had done. He'd at least been aware of a lot of movement. He could feel the heat from the erupting volcanoes and the wildfires he'd started. He could feel the ocean waves from the tsunamis lapping against his ankles. He could feel the earth quake and shudder beneath his feet.

But worst of all, he could hear the desperate screams of people as they ran for their lives.

And not once was he ever able to stop it.

Dean often felt like a goldfish trapped inside a mirrored bowl. He could see out, but no one else could see in. Once he found the edge, he would pound his fists against the walls, begging Michael to stop, to leave everyone alone, let him go, to let him see Sam and Kenna. And Michael always heard him.

But he rarely ever listened.

The archangel refused to answer and would only change the appearance of Dean's lonely room again. Dean had been to a dozen different places and had seen what felt like a hundred different people.

Hell, only an hour ago, I was playin' ball with Sammy again. In that park in Atlanta, when I was twelve…

Though, not all of his visions had been pleasant ones.

He'd also seen his parents, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and even Ruby.

_That good for nuthin' bitch…_

Dean couldn't help but wonder if this was how Sam had felt when he'd locked him in the Panic Room, all alone, coming down from the demon blood. Maybe this was what Sam saw. All his mistakes, each shortcoming, and every sin. '

His last vision had been of Jo and her words still rang in his ears, cutting into his heart like a dagger and twisting into his soul

"I loved you, Dean," she had whispered, and appeared to him still lying bloody and paralyzed on the floor of that hardware store, her guts hanging out in her hand. "I loved you…is this what happens to everyone who loves you?"

Dean had begged her forgiveness, told her how sorry he was, but it did no good.

"Is this what you want to happen to McKenna?" Jo asked, pulling the fear directly out of Dean's subconscious. Then, she had disappeared.

Almost every one of his visions had been like that. Ominous, dark, and the perfect pictures of his worst fears. As far as Dean could tell, Michael was doing it just to keep him occupied. Like handing a bored, crying child a toy just to get them to shut up. He did it to keep him busy.

_And scared…_

But more than anything else, Dean saw Kenna. He'd made love to her here, in the most beautiful bedroom his mind could come up with more times than he could count.

But to his own surprise, there was someone else he'd seen even more than Kenna.

He saw…_her_.

"Hi, Daddy."

This was his favorite vision…

Dean lifted his head and tried not to smile at the little girl standing in front of him. But it was a battle he quickly lost.

"Hi, baby," he whispered.

She was back…again, and he couldn't help but grin at her.

She was a sweet, tiny, little girl of about four years old, with Kenna's long blonde hair, Kenna's nose, and Dean's eyes. More often than not, she would appear with a tiny hand in her mouth, nibbling on her fingernails.

_Just like her Mama…_

Dean would often have to remove her fingers from her mouth and gently scold her for biting her nails.

"But Mama does it," the little girl had countered, once.

"Well, I don't care if your Mama does it," Dean had fought. "That doesn't mean you should."

Now, a slow smile came to his face as the little girl sat down on the floor across from him. Suddenly, they were in a new room with pink carpet and flowery wallpaper. The little girl was attempting to climb into a fluffy single bed, but the mattress was too high, and Dean stepped in to lift her up. He placed the pink blankets over her tiny form and tucked her in, never once disappointed that this was nothing more than a pleasant hallucination.

It was the works of an angel, a dream, maybe even a hologram of sorts, and Dean knew it.

But, he simply didn't care.

"Can you read me a story, Daddy?" the little girl asked, as she snuggled into bed.

Dean began to nod, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to find Kenna standing in the doorway, watching them.

He smiled at her and picked up a nearby book.

"Yeah, baby," he finally whispered. "Of course I can."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna was surprised at Sam and Bobby's decision in letting her leave the next morning. When she'd said she was heading off to find Michael again, neither one of them balked, or even offered to go with her.

And thankfully, Kenna wouldn't have it any other way.

Sam pulled her into a tight hug and didn't let go for a long time.

"Be careful," he whispered, pulled back, and looked at her. His eyes were shiny and he bit his lip, almost as if he was being shy. "And if anything happens…I'll be here when you get back."

Kenna smiled, leaned up, and kissed his cheek. Sam Winchester was possibly the sweetest man on the planet. If anything happened to Dean, he was willing to give up his own future, hunting, wife, kids, everything, just to take care of Kenna.

And she loved him dearly for it.

Bobby waved from his spot on the porch as Kenna climbed into the Shelby and took off down the driveway, realizing for the first time that she had no idea where she was going. And she drove for two hours before finally pulling over to call Castiel. She glanced up ahead, read off the nearest mile marker, and within two seconds he appeared in the passenger seat.

"Hey, Cas," she whispered, and tried to offer a smile. "You know, you've literally become my wing man."

The angel smiled softly, admiring her ability to retain her sense of humor, even while her heart was visibly breaking. He looked up, glanced at their location and frowned.

"I could have taken you to Michael from Bobby's house, McKenna" he offered. "You didn't even need to drive anywhere."

"I know," Kenna shrugged. "I guess I just needed some time. To think…and figure things out."

Castiel watched her reach up and run her fingers over the steering wheel with a shaky sigh. She clearly found comfort within her vehicle, reassurance in being behind the wheel, and on the road. She was very much like Dean in that respect.

"So, am I right?" Kenna asked. "Is he weakening at all?"

Cas shrugged. "I'm not hearing much. But the silence, alone, could very well be a sign that something's happening."

Kenna let out another sigh as she leaned forward and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. "This is the last time, Cas," she whispered, chin trembling. "Because I can't keep doing this. I can't keep going to see him…when he's not really there."

"I know," the angel agreed, his tone full of much-needed sympathy. "I also know that Dean wouldn't want you to hold onto him this way."

Kenna nodded. She knew that too. It didn't matter how much it hurt him. Dean would want her to move on.

_Even though I never really would…_

As though he could hear her thoughts, Castiel reached out, stuck his hand through the other side of steering wheel, and touched Kenna's forehead.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

A wave of nausea coursed up Kenna's torso at Castiel's unexpected zap and she reached her arms out to steady herself. She swallowed, forced the bile down, and blinked.

She was in a huge room with thick, metal walls, high ceilings, and poured cement floors. The wood rafters overhead were dusty and old, and the whole place smelled of dirt and mildew. She was in a warehouse, or at least what appeared to be one. Kenna should have asked Castiel where she was going, but the angel had never given her the chance.

_And now it's too late…_

She took a few steps forward, hearing the click of her heels echo within the large, empty space. She had never felt so alone…even though she knew she wasn't. The huge fluorescent lights overhead had blown out long ago, a sure sign that the archangel was here.

And he had been for some time.

Suddenly, Kenna heard a shuffling sound toward the back corner of the room and instinctively reached around her back to pull her gun free.

"Put that away, McKenna," a thick, familiar voice groaned. "We both know you can never use it on me."

Kenna sneered at the unseen angel, knowing he was right, and holstered her weapon. She followed his sounds until she reached the corner of the warehouse. Michael had set up a sorry little bedroom for himself, which was nothing more than a small cot and a nightstand with a broken lamp.

She watched Michael limp his way toward the cot and collapse on top of it. He sat on the edge, his torso hunched over, with his elbows resting on his knees. He was breathing heavily, his body heaving with each shallow breath. Kenna couldn't help but think that he looked smaller, less intimidating than he normally did. He looked troubled and familiar. In fact, he almost looked like…

_Dean…_

Kenna took a few steps forward, fearlessly reached down and hooked her forefinger beneath his chin. She lifted his face and forced him to look at her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Michael's face was scarred with open wounds, as though his skin was slowly being eaten away from the inside out. Kenna remembered Sam telling her how Lucifer had looked the last time he'd seen him. His vessel, Nick, was weak and nearly unable to hold the fallen angel.

And that was exactly how Michael looked now.

His eyes were tired, full of exhaustion, and his eyelids drooped closed. His head was heavy in her hand, and Kenna released him, watching his limp gaze fall back to the floor.

"You don't look so good," she whispered, trying to mask the concern in her voice.

The angel wheezed and nodded his head in agreement. "I'm aware of my appearance."

"What's happening to you?" Kenna questioned.

"Dean…" he groaned. "Is much stronger than I thought."

Kenna had been right. Dean was fighting him. She lifted a hand and covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her emotion.

"I've been keeping an eye on your whereabouts," she said, softly. "And I haven't seen any sign of you in days."

"It's been difficult," Michael gasped heavily, and coughed. "I've been rather…indisposed."

The angel was sick. Maybe even dying, if Kenna was correct.

"Dean has been fighting me," Michael wheezed. "Every step of the way. And he's been growing stronger these past few days."

"He's killing you," Kenna said, and it wasn't a question.

"Yes," the angel agreed, though he lifted his head and smiled his usual cocky grin. "But if I'm dying, I'm taking him with me."

Kenna's hand hovered near her gun, his tone and gaze just enough to put her on edge. She knew the firearm would do nothing, but her instincts overrode her common sense. She eventually dropped her hand and looked up at the angel, remembering what he had said to her when he'd visited her in her dreams.

_"I'm actually doing this as a favor to him. He asked to see you."_

_"You mean…? You mean he's really in there? Can he see me?"_

_Michael nodded. _

_"Can he hear me?" _

_Again, Michael nodded…_

It wasn't a good idea and Kenna felt brainless for even thinking about it, but as far as she was concerned, she had nothing left to lose.

Without another thought, Kenna reached out and placed her hand on the angel's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was a gesture that Dean often made to bring her comfort and despite her efforts to fight it, it always did just that. The angel tried to pull himself free from her grasp, but his weakened state wouldn't allow it.

He groaned, low in his throat, and grit his teeth, clearly in pain.

Kenna leaned up, touched his face, and ran her fingers through his hair. Michael's breaths came in short, desperate pants. Her touch was affecting him, doing thing to him. But yet not to him.

To Dean.

Michael's vessel could feel her touch, and he clearly loved every minute of it. The angel could feel him straining against the boundaries he'd set, ignoring the pain he'd feel if he truly tried to break free.

"_Dean_," Michael groaned, and closed his eyes, trying to send a painful shock to his vessel in an effort to stop him from fighting.

"Dean," Kenna breathed, her calls for him countered Michael's threats. She pulled him closer, resting her lips against his ear. She ignored the angel's weak protests and held him tight, against her. "Dean…"

Michael trembled within her arms, his body quaking and head thrashing.

"Kenna," he gasped.

She pulled her head back, blinked, and tried to look at him.

_That_ wasn't Michael.

"Dean," she whispered again. "Please…"

"Kenna," he breathed, turned his head, and looked at her. His eyes were flashing from Michael's ice blue, to his green, and back again. He was piercing the veil, desperately trying to break free from the angel's stranglehold.

"McKenna," the angel growled again, trying to fight his vessel with every last ounce of strength he had. "Don't make me do something we'll both regret."

He finally ripped himself free from her grasp and weakly stood to his feet. He made his way to the center of the large room, but quickly faltered and fell to his knees. The angel's body concaved as he shuddered, leaned forward, and retched. But nothing came up.

Kenna ignored it, rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. His skin felt hot and clammy, but she refused to let go.

"Please, God" Kenna begged, glancing up at the ceiling.

At the sound of her prayer, something inside the room changed, a force coursing into the walls like a ripple effect. _Someone _had finally shown up...

The angel lifted his head and his ice blue eyes flashed to green and gazed into hers. It wasn't Michael.

It was Dean.

The rafters shook overhead. The metal walls curved in and shuddered, while a loud, low hum vibrated through the floor beneath them.

"Get back," Dean wheezed, lifting his arm and pointing to the other side of the room. "Get over there."

"No," Kenna cried. "I'm not leaving you."

"Go, Kenna, now!" Dean screamed, and she finally did as she was told.

Kenna ran to the other side of the room and hid behind the pile of large wood crates she found there. She watched as a soft, gold glow peeked through Dean's skin, and spread out through the rest of his body. The rusty metal walls groaned against the strain of the unseen force behind them and the loud screech inside the building only escalated.

Finally, Kenna realized what it was.

It was Michael. He was screaming.

He was dying.

Over Michael's sobs, Kenna suddenly heard Dean. "Close your eyes! Close your eyes!"

The light brightened until she could feel the heat from it and she pushed herself

further behind the boxes, shielding her eyes in the crook of her elbow. She heard Michael's cry, begging Dean to end his pain.

But he didn't care.

Dean's body was suddenly engulfed in a white-hot flash of light and he felt it explode from within him, careening out from every pore. A hard gust of wind blew through the warehouse, taking the light, and the raining dust with it.

Then, everything was quiet.

Kenna uncovered her face, lifted her head, and pushed herself out from behind the safety of the crates. Out, in the middle of the huge room, laying flat on his back was Dean.

"Dean?" Kenna choked. "Dean?"

She stood to her feet and rushed to his side, lifting his head into her lap.

"Dean?" she said again, giving his face a gentle tap. "Dean!"

He didn't move.

Kenna reached down and placed two fingers against his throat.

And felt no pulse.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no…" Kenna moaned. She pulled him closer, gently shook his limp head in her hands. She felt the tears stinging her eyes, her chin trembling, and streams of moisture cascading down her cheeks.

"Dean…" she cried, her voice soft, nearly silent. "No…no, it wasn't supposed to happen this way…"

Kenna wrapped her arms around Dean, dropped her head forward, and rested her forehead against his. "Please, God…please…"

Suddenly, Dean's eyes snapped open and he sucked in a huge lungful of air. He coughed, panted, and finally breathed.

"Dean?" Kenna questioned, lifting her head to give him some room. He coughed again, but nodded at the sound of his name.

"Oh, my God!" Kenna cried, threw her head back on a harsh, joyful scream and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Oh, thank God, thank God…"

Dean reached up and weakly placed his hands against her back, pulling her closer to his shivering form. He held her there for a moment, loving the feel of the woman within his arms.

Finally, he pulled back, looked up at her, and frowned.

"Who are you?"

Kenna's eyes grew wide with panic, her chin trembled, and jaw hung slack, while tears began to stream down her cheeks again. "Oh, God…" she gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

Suddenly, Dean's green eyes sparkled and his lips curled up in a wicked grin.

He was kidding.

Kenna laughed through her tears and weakly smacked a shaky hand against his chest. "Don't you do that to me…"

Dean smiled, cupped the back of Kenna's head with his palm, and pulled her down for a long, desperate kiss.

Michael was gone and only Dean remained.

It was nothing short of a miracle.

It was over. Neither of them understood how or why, but then again, neither of them cared.

But somehow…

It was all over.

**-Okay, I'm crying now...I just can't believe it's almost over...**

**One chapter left. Please REVIEW. **


	100. Chapter 100

**-I honestly don't know what to say right now. I had no idea this story would become so popular so fast or that it would go on THIS long. But, I've loved every single second of it and it's been an incredible ride. **

**I'm almost in tears at the thought of this being over and the reason for that is all of you. I kept it going simply because you asked me to, and I can't thank you enough for all your support, and for loving this story as much as you have. Enjoy the last chapter, let me know what you think, and last but not least: THANK YOU for everything. **

**All my love, Leigh**

Warm, morning sunlight peeked in through McKenna's bedroom curtains, as she lay awake in bed. She rolled to her side, pulled up the bed sheet to cover her bare chest and supported her sleepy head in her hand. A slow smile spread across her face as she watched Dean sleep. His face was relaxed, peaceful, and the corners of his lips curled up in an almost smile.

He was Dean. Full, one hundred percent, no-doubt-about-it Dean Winchester.

Kenna closed her eyes and offered up her silent thanks to God as she reached up and lovingly ran her fingers through his hair. She chuckled softly, knowing it had to have been God. No other angel, demon, or spirit, and no one else on earth, heaven, or hell had the power to bring him back to her.

No one else but the Big Man, Himself, as Dean had once called Him.

When Kenna had brought him home the night before, Sam and Bobby almost didn't believe it was really Dean. And just to humor them, he had even offered to cut himself with a silver knife and douse his face with holy water. But Sam and Bobby refused to take him up on his offer and decided to let it be exactly what it was.

A miracle.

After that, Kenna had slowly led a still weakened Dean up the stairs, allowing him to lean on her as she helped him into the bathroom. She'd planned to only start the shower for him and possibly help him get undressed, but when Dean gently pulled her into his arms, kissed her, and tugged her into the shower with him, Kenna hadn't even thought of refusing. Despite their previous intimacy, she hadn't dreamed it possibe for there to be such deep levels to a simple kiss, but Dean quickly proved her wrong.

And she'd been so happy to have him back that Kenna had almost forgotten it'd been nearly two months since she'd last seen him, held him, and kissed him.

The couple had lingered beneath the hot water for a long time, taking turns washing one another clean of the remaining dust on their skin. When the water had begun to turn cold, Kenna and Dean finally climbed out.

It was the first time either one of them had ever gotten out of a shower feeling truly clean.

After wrapping both of them up in one huge towel, Dean had led Kenna across the hall and into her room, fully intending to keep his promise about one day making love to her in a nice, soft bed.

He made her head spin. She made him invincible.

Dean had found new things to do, things that made her cry out and shudder. Kenna had touched him in ways she'd been too reluctant to touch him before. She gained strength and confidence in herself as he kissed her, held her and moved deep within her. And all the while, Kenna had watched him.

And smiled.

Memories from the past, no matter how horrible they were, stayed in the past. And Kenna heard, saw, and felt nothing but Dean.

Their eyes had stayed on one another, watching and gaining new knowledge and pleasure. It was better than anything either of them had ever experienced before. There was mind-blowing passion, but it was so slow…so tender. Every movement careful, loving, and their rhythm like no one else's.

They couldn't have gotten closer even if they tried.

Kenna felt a sudden warmth rise to the surface of her skin as she thought back on everything. It had been a wildly beautiful night, and as far as she was concerned, there were going to be thousands more. Her intense desire for him was almost unthinkable, given her past, but perhaps that made it all the more miraculous.

Kenna smiled softly as she smoothed her fingers through Dean's hair, loving the feel of his skin beneath her own.

An unseasonably warm breeze passed through the open window and the curtains fluttered, sending a bright beam of sunlight straight into Dean's face. His once peaceful features clenched into a hard grimace. He groaned and shifted, wanting nothing more than to move away from the light and go back to sleep. But when he heard Kenna's soft chuckle, he knew there was just no way.

Dean slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. With the sunlight bathing her skin and surrounding her blonde hair like a halo, she had never looked more beautiful.

_Please, don't let this be another dream…_

Dean looked at her and frowned. He slowly reached up and touched her butterfly necklace, running his calloused fingers over the soft skin of her collarbone. His chin trembled and his green eyes suddenly grew misty. They caught hers and held.

"Is this real?"

Kenna smiled sadly at his tone. He sounded so much like a scared little boy it almost broke her heart.

"Yes," she whispered. "It's real."

Kenna leaned up, pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead and curled her body around his, hoping her closeness would prove it to him.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

She found him, hours later, sitting in front of the TV in Bobby's living room, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean winced as he watched the news footage of the destruction that had taken place while Michael had been with him. He'd seen flashes of it, heard the muffled screams begging for mercy, but nothing could have prepared him for what the archangel had actually done.

Tsunamis, volcanoes, earthquakes, war.

It was death and destruction in its basest form.

_The Apocalypse…_

Dean jumped when he felt a small hand on his shoulder as Kenna leaned over the back of the couch to turn off the news. He had lived without any real human touch for almost two months, and after the magic he'd shared with Kenna last night, his unused senses were still on overload.

Kenna looked down, smiled sadly, and pressed a comforting kiss to his temple, slowly running her fingers through his hair.

Like always, Dean blamed himself for everything, and Kenna knew it.

"No more TV," she scolded gently and reached forward to place something heavy in his lap. She smiled at him, pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, and walked away.

Dean looked down and found Kenna's Bible staring back at him. It was heavy against his sore legs, but the leather was soft and the gold letters of her name engraved on the cover felt good against his calloused fingertips.

_And best of all, it smells just like her…_

Kenna stood just outside the doorway and watched Dean for a long time. He never opened the Bible, but he seemed to find comfort just by having it in his hands and running his fingertips over the cover.

A slow smile spread over Kenna's face.

At least it was a start.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Sam walked through the dense woods behind Bobby's house, shoving logs with his foot and pushing branches out of his way as he went. When he finally reached the clearing, he almost had trouble finding what he was looking for. Finally, he spotted the hidden wood garage behind the thick barrage of vines. He pulled on the rusty handle until the door flipped up and the room inside was flooded with sunlight.

The garage that had once held McKenna's car now held her Harley, where it had been kept safe for the past few months. Sam smiled, remembering that their introduction to Kenna's car was technically their first real introduction to her. The Shelby was the first thing she'd really ever opened up to them about.

He could remember it like it was yesterday.

_"So, you rebuilt this little girl?" Dean asked._

_"From the tires, up," McKenna answered._

_Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I think Dean's in love."_

_"With my car?" McKenna asked._

_"No, probably with you…"_

Sam never needed one of his long lost visions to see that Dean would someday realize just how special Kenna was. Even then, long before they knew about the horrors she'd faced at The Compound, or the fact that she'd known Castiel long before they did, somehow they'd both known Kenna was different.

But they never thought she would change their lives, not only individually, but as brothers, as well.

Sam tenderly slid his fingers along the bright silver fender of the black motorcycle, forming a line in the thin dust resting on the surface.

_Ever since she first rode up on this baby…_

"Kinda sad to see her out here all by herself, isn't it?"

Sam lifted his head at the comment and found Kenna standing just outside the garage, leaning her weight against the wooden beams. He smiled as she slowly made her way inside to stand next to him. She reached up, draped an arm over the back of his shoulders and stood up on her toes to rest her chin against his collarbone.

"How's Dean?" Sam asked.

"He was asleep on the couch when I left him," Kenna answered. "He's exhausted."

Sam smiled. "I'm not surprised. He's been an angel condom for almost two months."

Kenna chuckled at Sam's reference to Dean's words, though both of them knew it really wasn't very funny.

"So, tell me," Sam began, pulling away from Kenna just enough to look at her. "How'd you do it? How'd you get Dean outta there?"

Kenna looked at the dirt floor below and shrugged. "I don't know, Sam," she whispered. "I honestly do _not_ know. I didn't do anything…really, I didn't. And if you ask Dean, he'll tell you the same thing."

Sam frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Apparently, that answer wasn't good enough.

"Neither one of us did anything, Sam," Kenna promised. "I swear. There were no rituals, no incantations, no spells…it was like…something or _Someone_ came into that room and just… set Dean free."

Sam uncrossed his arms, and slowly pressed his hands into his pockets. He kicked at a pebble on the ground and chuckled. "Cas said the same thing."

Kenna frowned and shook her head in silent question.

"I called him," Sam explained. "Last night after you and Dean got home. I _had_ to know what happened, Kenna. So, I called Cas and he said the same thing."

"He didn't have an answer either?"

"Oh, no, he did," Sam argued, nodding.

"What?"

Sam smiled. "A miracle."

Kenna joined him with a grin of her own. "That's good enough for me."

She glanced back over her shoulder and grabbed two rags from a nearby shelf. She handed one to Sam and the two proceeded to polish the motorcycle together.

"I was in really bad shape while we were at the motel, Sam," Kenna whispered, suddenly. "But you kept your head. You had faith that Dean would come back to us. But more than that…you took care of me. And I don't know what I would've done without you. But it should have been the other way around."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kenna looked away from him as her chin began to tremble. "Sam, you and Dean were all each other had," she began. "For _so_ long. And then I showed up and changed everything—"

"For the better," Sam said, interrupting her.

Kenna's rag came to a stop, mid stroke and she looked up at Sam in complete surprise.

"Kenna, Dean and I weren't in the best shape when you showed up, you know," he explained. "We were fighting all the time, we couldn't agree on anything…but then, once we met you…" Sam paused, unable to finish his sentence with the right words. There simply weren't enough to explain exactly how he felt.

"And I'm happy," he added, quickly. "Because I couldn't dream up anybody better for my brother than you."

Kenna smiled through her tears, acknowledging how he'd chosen to look past her history, and only see her for who she was now. She owed him so much more, but could only offer him one thing. She reached up, cupped Sam's cheek in her palm, and leaned forward to press a kiss to it.

More than anything, Kenna prayed he would find the same happiness with someone that she'd found with Dean. Because if there was one person in the whole wide world who truly deserved it, it was Sam Winchester.

"Thank you, Sammy," she whispered, caressing his jaw with her thumb.

Eventually, the two parted, stood to their feet, and stepped back to admire their work. The Harley glimmered in the sunlight, beautiful, shiny, and good as new.

"Perfect," Sam said, smiling proudly.

"Hmm, I don't know," Kenna said, cocking her head to the side with a frown. "I think she's missing something."

She reached up, slipped her arms beneath Sam's, and wrapped them around his waist. "You know what I think she needs?"

Sam shrugged and placed his hands around Kenna's back, giving her a quick squeeze.

"I think she needs a really good, _really long_ ride," Kenna whispered close to Sam's ear, gently pushed him toward the bike, and turned to leave. Just before she reached the edge of the garage, Kenna turned back and tossed him the keys.

Then, she walked away in silence, leaving Sam alone to think.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

McKenna found Bobby and Dean sitting on the porch as she made her way back to the house. The two men seemed to be ending what appeared to be a very serious conversation. Bobby looked up and smiled at her as she joined them, his expression a mixture of warmth and bittersweet sadness. He reached up, took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Kenna didn't even get the chance to question him before he wheeled himself inside, leaving her and Dean alone.

"Sam's out in the garage," Dean said, his voice lower and even thicker than usual. He lifted his hand, showing Kenna his cell phone. "He just called me."

"Yeah, I know. I just came from there," she said, nodding.

Kenna slid onto the porch swing next to him and Dean reached down to pull her legs up onto his lap. She was wearing a white flowing skirt that hit just below her knees and for a moment, she seemed almost out of place in the outfit. Given their job, Dean wasn't used to seeing her wear something so feminine, but she looked so pretty, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Dean smiled, suddenly realizing he'd never even seen her wear a skirt before. He began to wonder why, but when he slid his fingers a few inches north to skim along her knees, he quickly understood. There were tiny scars there, probably not very noticeable, but that never seemed to matter.

Kenna was extremely subconscious of all her scars, no matter how big or small they were. But, Dean hoped that over time he'd be able to change that. He couldn't help but smile when she shifted and his eyes caught a glimpse of the infamous brand on her hip.

"Sam says he's gonna go away for a little while," Dean said sadly, as he drew circles over Kenna's tiny scars with his fingertips.

"Really?" she asked, trying to cover up the fact that she wasn't really surprised. "For how long?"

"Couple weeks," Dean shrugged. "He's leavin' tomorrow. Says he's got a couple jobs lined up and he invited us to catch up with him later."

Dean lifted his head and smiled at Kenna, wondering how on earth he got so lucky. "He says there's some spirit activity goin' on in a plantation down in South Carolina if you're interested," he added.

"Yeah." Kenna smiled, reached up, and ran her fingers through Dean's hair. "I think that sounds like fun."

_Well, life goes on. With or without Lucifer and Michael…_

She was proud of Dean. And Sam, too.

Sam for deciding to spread his wings and take off for a little while on his own, and Dean for actually letting him. Kenna watched Dean's hard expression as he stared down at the wood floor below.

"You're not mad, are you?" she asked.

"No," Dean grunted and shook his head with a shrug. "I'm not mad. I'm just a little…worried."

Kenna smiled, unable to find his pout anything but absolutely adorable. She squeezed his shoulder, hoping the gesture would bring him the comfort he needed.

"You're his big brother, Dean," she said. "You always have been and always will be. But, Sam's a big boy, too. And you taught him everything you possibly could, so I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

Dean finally cracked a small smile. If anyone else had tried to give him the same 'Let Sam Go' speech, he'd probably kick their ass into next week. But this one was coming from Kenna. Someone who loved Sam just as much as he did.

So, of course, he was a bit more inclined to trust her judgment.

"I told him to call everyday," Dean said, clearly trying to console himself.

"Well, he better," Kenna snorted. "Because he's taking my bike."

Dean looked up and balked at her. "You're letting him take the Hog?"

Kenna nodded.

"Well, would you look at us," Dean said. "_I'm_ lettin' him go off on his own and _you're_ lettin' him take your Harley…"

He patted her leg with his hand and smiled. "I think we're growin' up."

Kenna grinned and leaned in to rest her forehead against Dean's temple, noticing the pale, pink wounds on his face, left behind by Michael, were fading quickly.

She was almost sorry. Scars were their thing, and it was something of a shame to see any of them go.

"So," Dean sighed and tickled the back of her knees. "What do we do now?"

Kenna shrugged her shoulders and shivered against his playful touch.

"Well, Bobby said we're welcome to stay here as long as we want," Dean continued. "But he also said that if it's any longer than a year, he's gonna start charging us rent."

Kenna chuckled. "Sounds like Bobby."

Dean reached up and pulled Kenna's left hand into his own, noting the empty space on her ring finger. He couldn't help but smile at his plans of putting something there within the next few days. With Kenna's father gone, Bobby was the only man he could ask about having her, and he'd given Dean his permission only moments before Kenna came back from the garage.

Though, of course, he'd added a few choice words of what would happen to Dean if he ever thought of hurting her. But for the rest of his life, Dean would make sure that nothing, not him, or anything else on the whole planet would ever hurt Kenna again.

"I'd like to keep hunting for a while," Kenna said, suddenly. "Even though Michael and Lucifer are gone, there's still some evil stuff out there."

"And Cas is still searching for God," Dean offered. "We can always help him, too."

Kenna nodded and snuggled closer to Dean. He smiled and reached down to thread his fingers through hers.

"I like bein' a hunter," he said, nodding his approval.

"Yeah, me too," Kenna agreed. "Although eventually, I think I'd like to change my title someday."

Dean turned his head and frowned at her. "To what, babe?"

Kenna leaned forward and watched him, ready to gauge his reaction.

"Soccer mom," she answered, softly.

Dean's eyes grew wide with momentary shock, but his expression quickly calmed, and the corners of his lips curled up in a soft, easy smile.

He lifted his gaze and watched as the sun began to sink down behind the trees.

"Huh," he grunted. "I kinda like the sound of that."


End file.
